


Roomba of Doom

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bob Is A Little Shit, Bob the Roomba - Freeform, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Comedy, Comedy of Errors, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley gets summoned, Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Demon Summoning, Demonic Shenanigans, Domestic Fluff, Doomba, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Roomba of doom, Roombas, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Summoning, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Worried Crowley (Good Omens), bob the doomba - Freeform, electrical appliance, household appliance, lydia the robo mower - Freeform, robo mower, robot lawnmower, roomba - Freeform, team bob, the archangel fucking Gabriel, vac - Freeform, vacuum cleaner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 91,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: Crowley gets an unusual summoning… and a new pet/minion of chaos.Inspired by a meme: Ouija board rugs: it's all fun and games until the Roomba accidentally summons a demon...I'm sure you can all see where this is going. Anyhow this was intended as a one off short comedy, but then between me, CynSyn and several other Good Omens fan friends and my other half, we came up with so many more ridiculous shenanigans that Crowley, Aziraphale and Crowley's demonic hellspawn can get up to together that I decided to make this a weekly updated series.I'll add new chapters every otherTuesdayuntil I run out of material.THERE IS *NO* END POINT TO THIS FIC, IT IS AN *ONGOING SERIES* SO FEEL FREE TO DIP IN!They'll be short chapters/vignettes easy to read while waiting for the bus/in your lunch break/before bed.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3409
Kudos: 1052





	1. The summoning (now ILLUSTRATED by Elwyst)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CynSyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quefish did a live reading of this chapter, and is doing readings of further chapters too, watch her on [ YouTube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ul-Fiu0KQkU&t=3s)

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open at an unusual noise. Something whirring and mechanical. He furrowed his brow in confusion, and, feeling the warmth of Crowley’s skin under his arm, mumbled and snuggled closer to his demon under the covers, spooning up to the comfort of his body, and nuzzled into the back of his neck, trying to let sleep take him again. 

Something bumped the bed slightly and beeped. The whirring noise was louder, Aziraphale frowned in his doze and cuddled the demon tighter. There was another bump and a beep after a moment and Aziraphale lifted his head to look around. He let go of Crowley and peered over the side of the bed. A robot vacuum cleaner was whirring around on the floor, working its way along the edge of the bed. It had googly eyes stuck on the top of it.

Suddenly Crowley was up on all fours across Aziraphale’s middle, glaring down at the Roomba.

“Oi! WHAT did I tell you, Bob? Not in the bedroom when I’ve got company over! Get out!” 

The Roomba actually stopped, turned to face Crowley, and beeped apologetically, inasmuch as a beep can be considered apologetic. Lights flickered on the top of it, it turned and made its way slowly toward the door. 

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley where he straddled across him. Crowley looked back sheepishly. “Sorry, he’s a nosy little bastard, dirty little voyeur. I must have left the door open when I got up for a drink last night. He usually knows to give me a wide berth before at least 11am.”

“He… knows?”

Crowley cringed and nodded. 

“He actually stopped when you shouted at him, and… left…”

Crowely nodded again. “He’s, um, sentient.”

“Sentient, really? That’s not just some clever AI then?”

Crowley shook his head. “I kind of… did a thing…” He sighed and laid back on the bed again. Aziraphale looked at him curiously. Crowley realised that the angel wasn’t going to let this drop purely by the expression on his face. “Coffee first, Angel, then Roomba, ok?”

A little while later they were relaxing in dressing gowns on the sofa with coffee and croissants, watching Bob trundle around the living room, googly eyes wobbling comically. Aziraphale threw a crumb in front of the little vacuum cleaner, and it changed course slightly to intercept it and devour it. 

“Stop throwing crumbs on my floor” Crowley groused. 

“But he’s hungry, he likes it.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “That’s as may be, but don’t pander to the little bastard. He’s just as happy on dust and dead leaves. Don’t spoil him with croissants, he’ll start begging if you do that, and I’ll never hear the last of it.”

“So…” Aziraphale took a sip of coffee and curled up against Crowley. “... How did you come to make a vacuum cleaner sentient, love?”

* * *

Crowley had been causing minor inconveniences for commuters by jamming chewing gum into the ticket readers at Oxford Circus station when it happened. A distinct tugging feeling in the pit of his stomach that heralded a familiar, yet oft-dreaded event. He was about to get summoned. His eyes went wide and his opened his mouth to curse just as the power caught with a jolt and yanked him out of one plane of existence and into another. 

“Fuuuuu…..”

He whirled through the firmament in a haze of annoyed molecules.

“...uuuucccckkkk!”

He landed and caught his balance, head spinning. He blinked and stood straighter, getting his bearings, ready to raise literal hell and yell at whichever irritating idiot had decided to summon him this time. 

“RIGHT, you bastard, let’s get this over with, why the HELL did you summon me and what deal with the Dark Lord did you have in mind for your mortal soul…?” He trailed off, uncertain. 

He wasn’t in a circle for once. 

He was in a living room. 

Alone. 

No humans anywhere, just a slightly gothically-styled lounge with black modular sofa, big flat screen tv, red and black flocked wallpaper, candelabra style wall sconces, the occasional sculpted dragon ornament, a coffee table with a pack of tarot cards on it next to a stack of “Wiccan today” magazines, and a Roomba trundling around on the floor. 

On the floor was a rug. It was, presumably ironically, decorated in the style of a ouija board. It was glowing faintly, as was the Roomba, which was trundling around it. Crowley saw the letters making up his true name glow and fade back to normal again before his eyes. 

“What…?”

 _How the_ **_HELL…_ ** _?_

But there were rules, regardless. He could feel it. He tried walking toward the door, reached for the door handle and felt the snap of power bite at his fingertips. So the rules still held, regardless of who or what had summoned him, even if accidentally in a freak occurrence that was probably a millions-to-one chance. He had to carry out the wishes of the summoner before he was allowed to leave. 

This was going to create some difficulty. 

He stared at the Roomba. 

The Roomba continued to be a Roomba. 

He stared at it some more. 

The Roomba bumped into the coffee table, beeped, spun a little, and trundled onward.

Crowley collapsed onto the sofa and put his head in his hands. What the fuck was he going to do now? He drew his hands slowly down his face in frustration and followed the device with his eyes. It trundled across the room and bumped into a cabinet that contained some glasses and bottles of alcohol. Welp, that’s that question answered, anyhow. 

Crowley stood, stepped around the machine, opened a bottle of Talisker and poured himself a generous measure. He lifted his glass at the Roomba in thanks for its suggestion. “Cheers.” he sighed and downed the lot. He refilled it again and sat back down on the sofa with the bottle in one hand and tumbler in the other to think things over. 

He drank a bit more and then ambled around the lounge, testing the windows and getting the same sharp snap of controlling power from them as he would have from the edges of a summoning circle. He was bound to this room until he’d done whatever the Roomba demanded of him. The slight problem being, that the irritating little electrical device had no way to demand anything of him, so in theory he was now bound here for the rest of eternity. This was a new one on Crowley. He sat back down, opened the bottle of Talisker again and hovered it over the tumbler for a second before rethinking and simply putting the bottle straight to his lips and taking a gulp. He waved at the TV and channel hopped the satellite service until he found an old episode of the Golden Girls to watch. He lounged back on the sofa and wondered what to do. 

Two episodes later, something boring came on, so he channel hopped a bit more while the Roomba continued to buzz its way around the living room floor. All of a sudden Crowley spotted something and backtracked a couple of channels until he hit it again. He stared at the screen, then looked down at the Roomba, comprehension dawning slowly through the haze of alcohol. 

“Number 5 is alive!” the TV announced. Crowley stared at the now sentient robot on the screen. Short Circuit*. Of course. Crowely narrowed his eyes and stared at the Roomba, which was now returning to its charging point. It plugged in with a satisfied little beep and powered down, lights flashing on top of it as it recharged. Crowely took another gulp of whisky and snapped his fingers at it. 

The pattern of the lights on the top of the machine changed slightly. Crowley got the feeling that the little machine was watching him, although what with, he couldn’t exactly say. 

“C’mon, dude, you’ve gotta give me something to work with here. What do you want?”

The Roomba disengaged from it’s charging point with an aura of resigned reluctance, and ambled back over to the ouija board. It went to one letter, paused, flashed, went to another, paused, flashed, and carried on as Crowley watched, intrigued. 

It spelled out: “What are you doing? Get off my floor, I just vacuumed there.”

Crowley stared at it incredulously. It appeared to stare back at him, indignant. Crowley fumbled for words. He sighed and sat back on the sofa, lifting his feet off the floor.

“Look, dude, I mean, hang on.. What should I call you? Do you have a name?”

The Roomba appeared to be thinking for a moment, lights on the top of it flashing in different patterns. It spun around and went to the letter B, flashed, O, flash, B again, flash, then stopped and spun around to face the demon. 

“Bob?”

The Roomba flashed at him. Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, Bob. Anyway, what do you want? I’m stuck here with you until you tell me what you want.”

It took a while, but in the end Crowley was able to get out of the confused little implement the words “Home”, “Floors”, “No carpet”, “No pets”, “No kids”. By casting an eye around the contents of the home thus far, which included cat hair on the sofa and some toys in a box in the corner, he surmised that this was not the environment in which Bob was happy. He weighed up his options. 

“Look, my place is concrete floors, no carpets anywhere, no pets, definitely no kids, not much furniture to get in the way either, easy to clean. If I take you home with me will you release me from my obligation? It will however mean that your newfound soul belongs to me for all eternity.”

Bob sat there, lights flashing speculatively for a little while. He then appeared to make up his mind and trundled toward Crowley, stopped in front of him and beeped assent. Crowley unplugged the charging port and tucked it under his arm, tucked bob under the other, then snapped his fingers, the accord breaking the summoning hold on him. The pair of them materialised in his Mayfair apartment. 

He set Bob on the floor and waved his hand around in general. “Make yourself at home. I’ll plug your charging port in here, then you can explore the rest of the place at your leisure. The plants are through there, don’t be nice to them, they’ll only take advantage of you. Tell me if you find any dropped leaves and who they came from. Don’t wake me before 11am and we’ll get on just fine. If there’s a towel on the doorknob don’t come knocking, ok?”

Bob twirled around thoughtfully, and then scooted to his charging port and settled down with a mechanical beep of contentment. He powered down and went to sleep. 

Crowley grabbed a marker pen and went through to a corner of the study. He set about drawing an alphabet board on the floor, this time without any supernatural connotations, in case he needed to communicate with his new minion again.

* * *

Aziraphale gazed at Crowley incredulously. He then glanced at Bob, humming happily around the lounge, googly eyes wobbling with the vibration. He looked back at Crowley, who shrugged and gulped more coffee. 

“You’ll get used to him.” Crowley shrugged, as if that explained anything else that needed to be said. 

A few days later, Aziraphale was reading on the sofa when Bob trundled through, a plant in a pot being carried sedately around on top of him. Bob was careful to avoid going under low furniture while he had a passenger.

* * *

**Click[HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645938) for illustration by Elwyst.**

* * *

The angel looked up from his book in confusion as Crowley followed Bob through from the plant room, observing the plant and vacuum combination. He noticed the angel’s expression. 

“What?”

“Crowely, why is there a plant on Bob?”

Crowley shrugged. “It’s been a good plant. Good plants get to go for a drive. Gives the others something to strive for. You said I should be nicer to them. This is me being nice. Problem?” 

He turned back to the plant room and yelled at the rest. “You see this? This is what happens then you do a good job. You get a new car. _Don’t_ do a good job and the rest of you lot get PUT IN THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL UNIT!”

The angel rolled his eyes and went back to his book, pushing a little bit of raspberry danish to one side of his plate to drop on the floor for Bob later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Short Circuit was a favourite film of my childhood, here's the official trailer:  
> [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rlI3Xg9g_A](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rlI3Xg9g_A)
> 
> Be sure to hit "subscribe" to get notified each Tuesday when a new chapter will go up. I have at least 10 already written ready to go, plus material for a few more. Feel free to drop suggestions in the comments as to funny things the ineffable idiots can get up to with their new family member.


	2. Viewing habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just some light entertainment. Here be onions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quefish's drunk reading of chapter two on [ YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCMDLMq4xYc)

Aziraphale walked into the empty flat. The television was on. It was showing an old episode of the cartoon _Transformers_. The angel knew Crowley wasn’t home as he’d texted from the supermarket to ask what ingredients he should get for tonight. Odd. Maybe the demon had left it on when he went out and forgotten it.

Aziraphale waved at the tv to turn it off and went to make a cup of tea.

The tv turned on again.

He spun around and glared at it suspiciously. Did Crowley’s flat have a poltergeist that he hadn’t told him about? He waved the tv off again.

A click and it came back on. There was an indignant beep from floor level in front of the sofa. Aziraphale stepped around the sofa and looked down.

Bob was there, lights flashing the occasional red alert in addition to his usual calming blue. He radiated an aura of annoyance at the angel and beeped again. The volume turned up on the tv.

“Oh. Terribly sorry, old chap. Didn’t realise it was you. Carry on.”

The Roomba shimmied in such a way that made his googly eyes roll in exasperation.

By way of apology, Aziraphale opened a cupboard and fished out a bag of popcorn. He opened it and scattered a few pieces on the floor in front of the robo vac, who considered him for a moment grudgingly, then did a little half circle to devour the popcorn before returning to his previous position to continue watching the programme. The red led stopped blinking and his lights phased in a contented blue glow.

Aziraphale settled down on the sofa behind Bob with his tea and the popcorn to watch along with him. Every now and again he’d drop another piece of popcorn down for the Roomba to enjoy.

Which was how Crowley found them a little while later. Sitting together watching “Scrap Heap Challenge” as Rob Llewellyn directed the two teams pulling old vehicles apart to make some bizarre monster machine. Occasionally the angel would drop a bit of popcorn on the floor, and the vacuum would consume it with a happy little beep. Crowley sighed. 

“What did I tell you about spoiling him, Angel?”

Aziraphale looked up guiltily. Bob scooted under the sofa and hid. 

“It was an accident.” Aziraphale insisted. Crowley raised a cynical eyebrow at him and said nothing. 

“This programme doesn’t seem like your cup of tea, Angel.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Bob picked it, not me. Every time I change the channel he beeps and swaps it back. It seemed easier to just go with it if I’m honest.” He caught Crowley’s expression and looked faintly embarrassed. “I know, I’m soft.”

“Wouldn’t have you any other way, Angel” Crowley replied with a smile, bending forward to kiss the top of his head affectionately.

Crowley then ambled through to the kitchen, started unpacking the shopping bags, and put the kettle on. Aziraphale changed the channel now that Bob had stopped watching. After a little while, Crowley whistled and Bob slunk out from under the sofa, trundling over to the kitchen area. 

A few minutes later he trundled back, stopped by the sofa and beeped at the angel. Aziraphale looked down to see the Roomba with a small tray on his back carrying a cup of tea and a biscuit. He took them gratefully and dropped a biscuit crumb in front of the little vacuum. “Don’t tell your dad” he whispered conspiratorially. “Thank you, darling!” he called out rather more loudly toward Crowley’s direction. 

They sat down for dinner later. Crowley had made toad in the hole with Lincolnshire sausages and onion gravy. Aziraphale nodded over to where Bob sat asleep on his charging port against the wall. “Doesn’t he need emptying at some point?” Crowley chewed on some yorkshire pudding and shook his head.

“Nah. I miracled him a pocket dimension of his very own, anything he sucks up just gets diverted straight into the aether. I call it the pocket lint dimension.” The demon grinned and took another bite. Aziraphale rolled his eyes again. It was getting to be a bit of a theme whenever the Roomba was mentioned. 

They finished dinner and Aziraphale stood and collected the plates. As he stepped backwards Bob perked up and made a “beep… beep… beep…” noise with a curiously amused expression somehow. The angel looked at him quizzically as Crowley burst into fits of giggles. The angel looked back at the demon with brow furrowed in confusion. “What was that for?”

Crowley snorted and giggled some more, then howled and tried to draw breath, slamming his hand on the table. 

“What?” demanded Aziraphale. 

“You’re reversing like a truck. Bob is providing you with a warning beeper.” Crowley giggled. The angel glared at Crowley and then at the Roomba. 

“You two are incorrigible.” 

“Well what d’you expect? He’s a demonic vacuum cleaner, Angel. He’s my little minion dude. He’s not supposed to be _good_.” Crowley picked a bit of yorkshire pudding from the edge of one of the plates Aziraphale held and tossed it toward Bob, who trundled forward an inch, sucked it up then returned to his charger again with a happy little beep. 

“I thought you said no spoiling him, dear?” Aziraphale admonished. Crowley shrugged. “Demon,” he reminded him with a smirk. “Besides, that was funny.”

They sat down together on the sofa after dinner to watch Bake Off. Crowely wasn’t sure why the angel was so hooked on the programme, as it was the demon who was the chef out of the two of them. Azirapahle could just about boil a kettle for tea and left the fancy stuff to Crowely. 

Apparently he’d tried to learn to cook in the past, but every time he got exasperated, knives had a habit of flaring into celestial flame in his hands*, so he’d given it up as a bad job. They sat and snuggled, the angel gently running his fingers through Crowley’s shock of short red hair. His hand stilled and he looked confused for a moment. 

“... Do you… do you _not_ peel an onion that way?”

Crowely glanced at the bloke on the telly, awkwardly trying to peel an onion with a potato peeler, then stared up at Aziraphale, aghast.**

“Angel, please promise me you won’t try to help me cook, ok?”

After Crowley had gone to bed, Aziraphale sat on the floor in the study with Bob as he spun around on the keyboard drawn there. 

“So did Crowley do the “beep once for yes, twice for no” thing with you as well?”

Bob beeped once, and to reaffirm, spelled out Y-E-S, in case he wasn’t clear. 

“Well that makes things somewhat easier while I’m getting to know you, dear. Tell me, what type of crumbs are your favourite then...?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *for explanation see ["Celestial Blade" ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21346210/chapters/50841886)
> 
> **credit to leepala for this one.
> 
> Be sure to hit Subscribe to get notified when the next chapter goes up next Tuesday. 
> 
> The first fanart of Bob the Roomba happened before I even posted the first chapter, courtesy of Maradactyl on the discord server, who had read some snippets as I was writing them:
> 
> In next week's chapter there will be a guest appearance by yet another former Red Dwarf actor.


	3. Doomba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob's viewing habits have inspired him to seek his 15 minutes of fame. Guest appearance by another former Red Dwarf actor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quefish reading chapter 3 on [YouTube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=516FdpfYcN8&fbclid=IwAR2sKV_lGQ_Wj1eqtq6gjrN2j5z_EvfiNUCDKs3vUoLYvDNmNs5cxUzeiTQ)

The end of another long day at the bookshop and Aziraphale had returned to the Mayfair flat. He opened the door and let his bag drop to the floor in the hallway with a sigh. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up in the hall, eased his shoes off and ambled through to the lounge.

He heard a whirring sound and leapt back as Bob trundled by. He was carrying something on his back. It was not a plant this time. The angel stared, wide eyed. _What the…?_

“Crowley…?” He called out, not taking his eyes from the robot vacuum cleaner. The demon popped his head around an open cupboard door in the kitchen where he’d been rummaging for ingredients. 

“Yes, love?”

“Why is Bob wearing a chainsaw, dearest?”

Crowley nudged the cupboard door shut and plonked a bottle of balsamic vinegar on the counter, then reached for an onion to start chopping. “Sorry, love. I forgot to take it off him again, gimme a minute.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t quite answer my question, Crowley.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Oh, well, one: he asked for it. Two: I made him promise to help by threatening the plants with it if I let him play with it, and three: he wanted to practise.” Crowley scraped the chopped onion into a dish and set about chopping some tomatoes.

“Practise?”

Crowley nodded. “He likes Robot Wars. He asked if he could audition.”

The angel was incredulous. “Crowley you can’t let your, your… your _child_ go on that dreadful tv show with a chainsaw, he’s just a vacuum cleaner…” (at this, Bob beeped indignantly and revved the chainsaw in the angel’s direction) Aziraphale flinched and hopped onto the couch, carefully lifting his feet off the floor. Although he knew Bob would never hurt them, he also knew he’d touched a nerve, or wire, or whatever it was that the literally damned little device had.

“Sorry, Bob, I didn’t mean it dear. Anyhow Crowley, what were you thinking? He’ll be annihilated!” 

Crowley grinned devilishly. “Not with the upgrades I gave him he won’t.”

Aziraphale hesitated. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, dear, but… what _upgrades_?”

The demon smirked and lifted his chin toward the Roomba. “Hey, Bob! Show uncle Aziraphale the ‘hellfire’ mod.” He winked at the angel and whispered “don’t worry it’s just regular fire, not actual hellfire.”

A gout of flame rolled across the floor and left a scorch mark on the opposite wall. Crowley cackled in delight. Aziraphale was aghast. 

“ _Crowley_! The variety of fire doesn’t make an awful lot of difference when your electrical appliance runs the risk of burning down the entire building!” 

“You’re no fun. Besides now he’s also useful as a form of home defence against burglars.” 

* * *

It was a few weeks later. The remains of several cheap mundane robot toys lay scattered around the study. Crowley had moved his desk and throne to one side to leave a big floor space for Bob to practise dismembering them. There were several scorch marks on the walls. 

“Ok, reckon you’re ready buddy, you want a ride in the car?” Bob beeped happily and emitted a small gout of flame like a burp. Crowley shook his head. “None of that in the Bentley though, or you’ll be grounded. Behave, ok? Uncle Aziraphale is coming along so he can pretend to man the controls with me, but it’s all up to you. Just take it easy with the house robots. Sir Killalot and Matilda especially, don’t let em chop bits off you. I’ve made you immune to fire but it wouldn’t be realistic for you to be completely invulnerable to everything. Just try to take damage on the sacrificial panels I’ve given you ok?”

Bob beeped again and all his lights flashed red as he pulled an angry face, ready for battle. Crowley grinned and picked him up. “Save it for later, bud. I’ve set up a mobile charging port for you so you can top up in the car on the way. Have a rest.”

The presenter Craig Charles ambled over to Crowley’s workbench and took in the robo vac in gobsmacked amazement. “It’s a vacuum cleaner” he stated, confused. 

“An armoured roomba.” Crowley corrected. “With a chainsaw and a flamethrower.”

“Still a Roomba” Craig observed. 

“Doomba” Crowley replied. 

“Doomba?”

Crowley nodded. “Bob the Doomba. He’s named after one of the Skutters on your old show _Red Dwarf_ , the cleaning droids.” (Bob had revealed this using the spelling board at Crowley’s flat - he used to watch the programme at his old house when his owners had it on the tv, so chose it as his own name.) 

Craig chuckled. “Y’know, those little buggers would get signals scrambled by local taxicab radio transmissions, lose control and start pecking at Chris Barrie. The props guys thought it was hilarious, Chris… not so much.” He grinned at the memory. The skutter’s claw heads had been at groin height.*

“Anyway,” he continued. “Best of luck, I reckon you’ll need it.” He nipped out of the side door for a cigarette break. Aziraphale took in the rest of the competitors with a growing sense of gloom. 

“You can’t really be meaning to let Bob loose at the mercy of all this lot, Crowley?” The angel whispered. “Look at the axe on that one!”

Crowley shrugged. “I gave him some titanium panels, some carbon fibre replacing his plastic parts, and a bit of kevlar to wrap around his other bits. He’ll be fine. He wanted to do this, Aziraphale, who am I to deny him?” He patted the vac affectionately. “Go get em, Bob.” Bob beeped at him and flashed his lights red. “Sorry, Doomba. Go get em Doomba.” Crowley corrected himself. 

Aziraphale had a job keeping his jaw from dropping open and from cringing away from the death dealing robots on the battle floor. He should probably have practised plausibly acting as if he was manning the controls rather than just twiddling with the knobs at random as he watched Bob spinning around dismembering the other robots with his chainsaw and frying their electrics with gouts of fire. His one weakness was being flipped so Crowley instead used minor demonic miracles here and there to ensure he always landed on his wheels instead, much to the amazement of the crowd. 

At one point Matilda bulldozed him over a flame pit but the plucky little vacuum cleaner laughed it off, lights flashing red, and charged straight back, his own chainsaw meeting Matilda’s tail until both of their chains tangled and jammed together. At this point he used the locked mechanisms to spin around and hold Matilda over the flame pit instead until her wiring melted and she stopped moving. 

They won. Much to everyone’s surprise, except possibly Crowley, who had been working hard to ensure his little minion didn’t come to any real harm, although he’d never admit it to Bob, in case he hurt his feelings. He wanted the Roomba to think he won fair and square, even if he was legitimately outmatched by the carefully built battle bots. It’d be good for his little ego. He patted the vac affectionately as he placed him on the back seat of the Bentely for the trip home. Aziraphale scattered a few crumbs on the leather seat for him to devour as a reward. For once, Crowley didn’t object. Bob beeped happily to himself, his lights glowing a contented blue colour the whole ride back to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this is in fact, true. 
> 
> I've also got to meet Craig Charles, on set of filming season 12 of Red Dwarf at Pinewood Studios down the road from where I live. He and Rob Llewellyn each stopped to say hi to me. I was at the time still using my mobility scooter which was already named "Red Dwarf" (My current powerchair is named "StarBug", my old mobility scooter had been named "Blue Midget.")
> 
> Craig said hi then nipped out the side door for a cigarette break. He is notorious for this (and trying to sneakily smoke on set) and the rest of the cast still tease him about it.
> 
> Anyhow, "Bob" and "Madge" are names used on the show to refer to two of the Skutters (cleaning/service droids) on screen. Off screen, initially the animatronic props were nicknamed "Mercedes" and "Benz". So technically it'd be "Bob, played by Benz" and "Madge, played by Mercedes." I suppose.
> 
> \- - - - - - - - - -  
> *Next chapter will feature a guest appearance from another character written by Sir Terry Pratchett (co-author of Good Omens alongside Neil Gaiman.) This character has appeared in another one of my sfw comedy fics before too ;)


	4. L-space (again) and butt-dialling god? (ILLUSTRATED by Elwyst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take your demonically possessed vacuum cleaner to work day (part 1?). Bob the Doomba accompanies uncle Aziraphale to the bookshop for the day. Shenanigans ensue, as always... 
> 
> Crowley also has some explaining to do to his unconventional and tidy minded child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some bits of this chapter will make more sense if you have either read [ L-space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412357/chapters/51014899) (SFW comedy fic) and/or other Sir Terry Pratchett books like Discworld ones, but it is by no means neccesary. Explanation in end notes.
> 
> **reading by Quefish on[ YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E16bvYBdobw)**

Aziraphale looked up from his book as he heard the familiar buzzing of Bob making his way across the lounge. He wasn’t wearing a plant. Thankfully he was also not wearing a chainsaw this time. Crowley had restored his regular carapace after an incident with the flamethrower where Bob got into an argument with the rubber plant for dropping too many leaves on the floor. The rubber plant was now in time out on the balcony, after the angel had intervened to stop yet another victim of the garbage disposal unit. Not that there was much rubber plant left to save. It was rather scorched and only two leaves remained at the top. 

This time Bob was wearing a small red and black snake curled up in a perfect spiral on top of his lid. The serpent grinned at the angel as they scooted past. If Crowley could have winked, he would have. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I’m not even going to ask, Crowley.” He went back to reading his book. Crowley pouted and slithered off before Bob dived under the sofa, as that would have shoved the demon off the top anyway.

* * *

**Click[HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719306) for illustration by Elwyst**

* * *

Crowley regained his humanoid form. “You’re just jealous you can’t ride him.” He slumped down on the sofa and flung his legs across the angel’s lap. “Bob said he was getting bored, would you take him to work with you tomorrow so he can have a change of scenery? He can clean the shop for you, maybe terrorise a few customers for you if I give him his chainsaw back again.”

Aziraphale glared at the demon. “Bob is NOT being let loose in my bookshop while wearing a _chainsaw_ , Crowley. He may come, but he has to be on his best behaviour.”

Crowley shrugged. “No problem.”

Aziraphale tucked the charging unit under his arm as he walked down the street. Bob trundled after him happily like a dog. He wanted to “walk” as well to get to see the sights. Occasionally the angel had to give him a little nudge with his toe to help him over an awkwardly dropped kerb, but it was a short walk and the little vacuum cleaner seemed to appreciate the opportunity to stretch his legs, wheels, whatever. His lights glowed a happy blue. He carefully skirted around a pile of dog mess with visible distaste, and waited in front of the step while Aziraphale unlocked the bookshop, then picked him up to carry him indoors and set him down on the floor. 

“I’ll plug your charging port in over here in the study, dear. Enjoy yourself.” The angel settled himself down at his desk to carry on rebinding an old tome someone had brought in for restoration. Bob spun in the middle of the office area and took in his surroundings. 

He trundled off down the stacks, delighted to find lovely hardwood floors covered in drifts of dust that his whiskers brushed into his suction port greedily and dispensed into the pocket lint dimension. He was a happy little appliance. 

After a while, Bob was surprised to see the wooden floorboards give way to cold flagstones. He paused and looked around carefully. He was still surrounded by stacks of book shelves, but the building appeared to have changed somewhat. He was confused and beeped in alarm. He was lost. Presently there was a shuffling sound and a gentle simian hand picked up the Roomba and cradled him in strong arms covered in thick red hair. 

“Oook” the creature said, and stroked the vacuum cleaner comfortingly, before swinging off back the way Bob had come from, clutching the vac to his chest. After a few minutes, the wooden floorboards reappeared and the shelves took on a familiar look. 

Aziraphale felt a tap on his shoulder and looked around into the familiar, if surprising face of the orangutan.

“Oook.” The Librarian pointed out, and held out the Roomba to the angel. 

“Oh. Hello again.” Aziraphale looked down at Bob held in the orangutan’s hands. “Oh goodness, wherever did you find him?”

“Ook, oook.” The Librarian explained, and pressed the vac into Aziraphale’s arms with a smile. The angel accepted it gratefully. 

“Thank you ever so much, terribly sorry he disturbed you, I’ll make sure he sticks to the front of the shop for the rest of the afternoon.” Aziraphale set Bob down on the floor again with a pat. “I think you’d better recharge for a bit, dear. Don’t go wandering into L space unless you know what you’re doing.” Behind them the ape knuckled back off down the stacks and back to his own library. “Toodle pip!” Aziraphale called after him. 

After a recharge, Bob set about cleaning the main shop area with a vengeance. That was, until he came to the circular rug in the centre of the room under the cupola. He hated rugs. That’s why he liked Crowley’s flat so much. Lovely smooth concrete floors and no tassels to get caught on. This rug however was ancient and rather threadbare. It had tassels. 

He was stuck. His wheels spun and he reversed frantically, tugging the rug with him. He didn’t want to beep and alert Aziraphale to his predicament, worried that he’d get in trouble for making a fuss again, so he kept on reversing until he hit the far wall, dragging the rug along too. He paused and pondered. He tried reversing his motor for a moment, and with a bit of wriggling, managed to unspool the cotton weave from his brush with a quiet beep of relief. He couldn’t put the rug back but at least he wasn’t stuck any more. He was sure Uncle Aziraphale would put it back later for him. He trundled off, giving the rumpled fabric a wide berth, and continued to clean. 

Bob wheeled back to where he’d got stuck and set about vacuuming the middle of the shop. It had a funny pattern on it. He didn’t think anything of this as he circled around brushing dust up into his suction port, until the floor started glowing around him and he stopped in alarm. 

A head appeared above him and looked about in confusion. Bob let out a startled beep. The head looked down at him. 

“Who… _what_.. Are you?” it enquired tetchily. 

Bob beeped and reversed hurriedly back to the office until he bumped into Aziraphale’s chair and let out another startled beep in fright. The angel looked down at the Roomba, whose lights were flashing bright blue in a panicked pattern. “Whatever is the matter, dear?”

His peripheral vision noticed the bright white light emanating from the centre of the shop. “Oh no. _No_ . Bob, what did you _do…_?” Aziraphale scrambled to his feet and straightened his tie nervously. He walked hesitantly to the middle of the shop where the Metatron waited, looking irritated. 

“Principality Aziraphale, why have you summoned me?” The Metatron demanded. 

“Um, I, er… didn’t, exactly? It was an accident, I am most terribly sorry.” Bob peered out nervously from behind his feet. Aziraphale glanced down at him. “It was an honest mistake I’m afraid, everything is tickety boo here, my vacuum cleaner appears to have accidentally activated the circle, terribly sorry sir, it won’t happen again, I can assure you.”

The Metatron looked singularly disgruntled. “I was summoned by a household appliance?” he demanded. 

“I’m afraid so, sir. Again, terribly sorry, freak accident, I’ll make sure to erase some of the sigils to break the circle once you’re gone, sir. Please don’t smite him, he didn’t mean it.”

The Metatron rolled his eyes at the angel and disappeared with a faint chiming noise. The light disappeared. The circle was deactivated. Aziraphale hurriedly grabbed a cloth and set about rubbing out some of the key chalk marks to prevent future accidental activations. Bob quietly scooted around the edge of the room and slunk back to his charging port, where he remained for the rest of the afternoon. 

Crowley dropped by at 5pm to walk home with both of them. He tucked Bob’s charging port under one arm, and took Aziraphale’s arm in the other. Bob scooted ahead happily, brushing up the odd bit of leaf and litter as he went. Crowley and Aziraphale chatted as they walked, until Aziraphale had to yank Crowley back to stop him from tripping over the Roomba who was stopped in the middle of the pavement in front of them. 

“Careful, dear. What’s wrong, Bob?” Aziraphale peered down at where the vacuum cleaner was busily brushing at the pavement, moving backward and forward an inch or two at a time, his motor buzzing in a frustrated hum. He stopped, then moved back slightly to reveal what he had been trying to suck up. 

Aziraphale stared at the item. He nudged it with a toe, then raised an accusing eyebrow at the demon, whose eyes darted about in panicked shame. 

It was a pound coin, superglued to the pavement.

“Crowley…?”

“Mmmph?” The demon tried, and failed, to affect an air of insouciant innocence.

“Would you care to explain to your son why there’s a coin glued to the pavement?”

“... No...?” He whimpered in a quiet little voice. 

Aziraphale glared at him. 

“...Um… y’see, Bob, um... there’s this stuff called glue, and it makes things stick so they don’t move, and…”

Bob faced him, lights flashing in confused expectation. 

“...sometimes people think it’s funny to glue things down then watch humans try to pick them up…”

Aziraphale shot him a look. “And by ‘people’ you mean…?”

Crowley winced. “...Me. Sorry Bob, it wasn’t meant for you, buddy.”

Bob’s LEDs turned red one by one. His motor dropped into a quiet growl. He approached the demon slowly. Crowley took a nervous half step backward, but Aziraphale had an iron firm grip on his arm and held him fast. 

Bob trundled forward until he was an inch from Crowely’s toes then stopped. There was a brief, high pitched whirring noise as his motors suddenly spun up in reverse, and a cloud of dust and grit coughed out onto the demon’s shiny snakeskin shoes. 

“...I deserved that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you not already aware, L-space was the creation of Good Omens co-author Sir Terry Pratchett, and the idea is that all complicated old libraries and bookshops are linked interdimensionally. He went to great lengths to describe exactly what sort of antique bookshop and (bookshop owner) tended to host portals to L-space, and Aziraphale's and his bookshop exactly fit that description in every way possible. Furthermore, the Librarian of Unseen University's library on the Discworld is known to wander around in L-space from time to time. He is an Orangutan, thanks to a magical accident. He finds it preferable to his old human form and as such strongly and violently resists any attempt to turn him back again. 
> 
> His true name was believed to be Horace Worblehat, a fact which he has studiously endeavoured to erase from history, lest someone use it as part of a magic spell to change him back.


	5. DUCKS! (They’re what water slides off) NOW ILLUSTRATED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob has an attitude. Also, if you spot a line in here similar to CynSyn's "Music and Manuscripts", that's because Cyn fed me the line a few weeks ago when I wrote this. We just differ on the avian involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reading by Quefish on[ YouTube](https://youtu.be/h2o-ADwE9os)**
> 
> ** NEW! Elwyst has done another lovely illustration of Bob and the dog! [CLICK HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168253) to see! **

The doorbell rang. Aziraphale set his book aside and went to answer it. Bob buzzed along behind him with interest, curious to see who was at the door. It turned out to be a chap from British Gas there to read the meter. Aziraphale led him to the airing cupboard to take a reading, while Bob circled the angel possessively, LEDs flashing red at the interloper in warning. 

The Gas technician, whose name tag proclaimed him to be called Nasir, glanced down at the curiously behaved vacuum cleaner. Aziraphale caught his expression. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse him. Bob gets nervous around strangers.” Nasir looked up at the peculiar blonde chap with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Uh, is that so?” he took the reading, made his excuses and left as quickly as was politely possible. You met some weird people in this job. The Roomba had followed him to the door emitting strangely angry little beeps and nudging at the heels of his shoes while the homeowner told it off in hissed undertones. 

Aziraphale recounted the events over dinner with Crowley later. “It’s really most endearing, darling, how he circles me just like you do, he’s so protective.”

Crowley grunted. “He’s only circling you because you’re a walking crumb factory, Angel. He’s waiting for you to drop food for him, it’s cupboard love.” 

“Oh no, darling, you should have seen him. I swear if he could have bitten the meter reader on the leg he would have. Rather fortunate for the poor chap that Bob didn’t have his chainsaw on, really.” He sipped at his wine and ate a bit more penne arrabiata. “Oh this really is delicious, Crowley, well done dearest.”

Over a tiramisu for dessert, Aziraphale brought up the subject of the Roomba again. “I really do think the poor dear is getting frustrated, darling. Perhaps you should take him for a walk tomorrow, take him to the park and let him see the sights, it’ll do him good to socialise a bit. He did so enjoy his walk down to the bookshop the other week.”

“He escaped into another dimension  _ and  _ summoned the Metatron in a single afternoon, Angel. Bob is a hazard on wheels. He’s a fucking menace.” 

“He takes after his father, then?” the angel sniped with a teasing smirk. Crowley glared at him. “Besides, you do encourage him. You’re the one who gave him a chainsaw and a flamethrower, darling.” Crowley continued to glare, glarefully. 

“ _ Fine _ .” the demon groused. “I’ll take him for a walk. On your head be it if he ends up opening a portal to hell or something while we’re there.”

Crowley slept in the next day. He woke about 2pm and stretched, wondering what had woken him. There was a steady repeated  _ thump, thump _ at the bedroom door, and a faint angry beeping. The demon growled. “OK, OK! I can  _ hear  _ you, Bob, I’m sorry, yes I  _ know  _ I promised we’d go out, I overslept, hang on…” He tumbled out of bed and staggered to the door groggily and opened it. 

Bob looked at him, lights flashing red in irritation. He beeped and ran over Crowley’s toe. 

“OW! Oi! Less of that you little shit, patience, dude! Lemme get showered and dressed, but lemme get some damn  _ coffee  _ first, it’s too early in the afternoon for this.” Bob beeped again and trundled off to sit by the front door impatiently. Crowley rolled his eyes. Bob did a little pattern of beeps and revs as if muttering under his breath.

"Oi! Don't you go insulting me like that! I'm the one who took you out of that hellscape of carpet and cat hair!"

The vacuum beeped indignantly back at him.

"I WILL HIDE YOUR CHARGING PORT, YOU SPOILED VACUUM!"

Every now and then as he waited for the coffee to brew, while he drank it, and while he showered, he’d hear the occasional thud as Bob headbutted the front door in frustration. “CHILL OUT, DUDE!” Crowley yelled at him from the shower. “I’m coming, ok? Blimey you’re irritating sometimes.”

Eventually Crowely was ready, and Bob trundled along behind him as they left the flat, proceeded down in the lift and out of the lobby onto the street. People gave the demon peculiar looks as he sauntered along with a vacuum cleaner walking to heel. He grinned at them. At least it meant people gave him a wider berth than usual, in the spirit of “stay away from the crazy dude taking an electrical appliance for a walk.” 

Crowley had to stop a couple of times to lift Bob over kerbs before they got to the park, where he paused. A sign stated “DOGS MUST BE KEPT ON A LEASH” Crowley looked down at Bob. 

Bob looked up at Crowley. 

“Well you’re not a dog, dude, so I guess the leash thing doesn’t apply to you. Just try not to get into any trouble, ok?” Bob beeped and they carried on. 

Crowley took a seat on the bench by the duck pond and scrolled through his phone while Bob circled around a dog on a leash, which was trying to find out which end was Bob’s tail so he could sniff it. Bob returned the favour by circling around to the dog’s tail, and tickling it’s paws with his spinning whiskers. The dog’s owner stared at the rogue vacuum cleaner and Crowley in utter confusion. Crowley stared back. “What?” he demanded. The woman tugged her dog away and avoided eye contact. Crowley chuckled. 

Presently his phone buzzed. It was Aziraphale. “On way home, should I pick up anything for dinner? x” 

Crowley considered for a moment and texted back. 

“At park with Bob, you could meet us here then we could grab something together on the way back x” 

“Ok, dearest, be there in a bit, love you x”

An elderly gentleman sat down on the bench next to Crowley and opened a small paper bag of bread crumbs to throw to the ducks. A fat mallard waddled over hurriedly to take advantage before the others spotted the bonanza. 

Unfortunately Bob also spotted the crumbs. He changed direction from where he’d been investigating some fallen leaves, and trundled determinedly over to his favourite snack. The duck quacked at him in annoyance and pecked at his plastic cover. Bob’s LEDs went red...

Aziraphale arrived at the bench to find Crowley cackling in the middle of a crowd of onlookers, feathers flying everywhere and angry beeps coming from the middle of the crowd. The angel shouldered his way to where the demon was sitting and took in the spectacle. “Why is Bob fighting with a duck, Crowley?” 

Crowley shrugged. “Sometimes the duck gives you no option, Aziraphale.”

“What are they fighting over?”

“Breadcrumbs.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

The duck erupted from the crowd in a flurry of feathers and disgruntled quacks and scooted at high speed across the pond. Bob spun around triumphantly and vacuumed up the fallen feathers. Crowley picked one up and tucked it between two panels on the Roomba’s casing so it stood up like a little flag.

“There you go: trophy. Winner of the great Battle Of The Duck Pond.” The demon grinned proudly at his hellish little minion. Aziraphale rolled his eyes again. It was getting to be a habit.

As they strolled arm in arm out of the park, Bob delighted in charging at flocks of pigeons on the ground, sending them scattering into the air. Crowley smiled indulgently. “We should do this more often.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “He can be very fierce, can’t he? Quite the little temper on him.”

“You want temper, you should have heard him when we got home after the airbase. While you were in the bathroom I went to find Bob, he wasn’t on his charging port, I found him hiding under the desk. He gave me  _ hell  _ over the Ligur puddle. He hadn’t been able to get out of the study all day because of the holy water on the floor. I had to lift him over it. You’ve never heard such language.”

“Well that explains why you left the TV turned on all night playing “the brave little toaster” I suppose. I did wonder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is "Secret Stash", where Bob has a guilty secret, and gets jealous of something else vying for Crowley's attention.


	6. Secret stash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob is going through that awkward emotional teenage phase of forbidden desires, jealousy and rebellion against his parents. 
> 
> Crowley begins to wonder if actual children might have been easier...
> 
> Anyway, it's Saturday, and I felt like giving you BONUS BOB again. Still not sure if I'll do this every Saturday or not, but regular updates are still definitely **every TUESDAY** , with occasional **Saturday Surprise Bonus Bobs** for all you lovely readers out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reading of chapter 6 by Quefish on[YouTube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6iPQ7ckzG8)**

Aziraphale frowned as the dropped pen rolled under the sofa. He got down on hands and knees to retrieve it, then fell backwards with a yelp as Bob charged out from underneath with a surprised beep and a distinctly guilty aura about him. He rushed under the armchair and hid there, powering his lights down. Aziraphale furrowed his brow in confusion, and went to reach under to retrieve the pen. 

His questing fingers first found paper. A magazine of some sort hidden under there. He drew it out for inspection. It was a mailshot Curry’s catalogue for electrical appliances. It was open at a double page spread of vacuum cleaners. 

Bob shot out from under the chair, ran over the magazine and beeped angrily at the angel. Aziraphale backed off, hands up in a placating manner. “Ok, ok, Bob, it’s yours.” Bob glowered at the angel and grabbed at the corner of the paper with his brushes, tugging it back under the sofa again. After a moment, the pen was flicked out from underneath, to roll against Aziraphale’s knee.

* * *

When Crowley got home, he sauntered over to the sofa and bent over to give his angel a kiss and a hug. “Good day, Angel?” he murmured in Aziraphale’s ear. 

“Mmm, yes thanks, love. But you might want to have a bit of a talk with your spawn about his choice of reading material. I think he’s got to that age where he’s showing an interest in dust busters. Maybe give him a safety talk about circuit breakers or something, or whatever the electrical equivalent of safe sex might be.”

Crowley looked confused.

“There was a Curry’s appliance catalogue hidden under the sofa. Top tip: don’t try to confiscate it, he got rather protective and indignant about that.”

The demon giggled. “That’s my demonic minion. Speaking of which, look what arrived in the post today?” He held up a cardboard box proudly. “Solar panel kit for Bob. It’ll mean he can come out on walks for longer without needing to recharge so often. More duck and pigeon chasing opportunities.” Azirapahle rolled his eyes. Crowley whistled, and Bob trundled out from under the sofa warily. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble, kid. It’s only natural you’d take an interest in things, lemme know if you want more catalogues, dude. Here, got you another upgrade.”

Bob’s lights flashed happily and he spun around then scooted to the wall and headbutted the scorch mark there. 

“No, it’s not like the flamethrower mod, no more robot wars, kiddo. I got you a solar panel, come on, lemme fit it.”

Bob allowed himself to be lifted and placed gently upside down on the sofa. “This might tickle a bit, keep still, ok?” Crowley ripped the cardboard box open, then snapped a screwdriver out of thin air and removed an access panel. Bob beeped. Crowley rummaged a little. 

“Huh, what’s this?” The demon held up a small piece of lego that had been jammed in Bob’s innards. “Weird. We don’t even _have_ lego in the house, where’d you find this?” Aziraphale studied it carefully. 

“It might be one of those things, happens to all vacuum cleaners everywhere, maybe he’s accidentally sucking it up out of another dimension, just because lego in vacuum cleaners is a _thing_.”

Crowley tossed it aside with a shrug. “At least it’s not as bad as the time I found a vial of ricin in there, still no idea where he found that one. Had to burn it up in hellfire to get rid of it safely.”*

He tinkered for a few minutes more, then flipped Bob over and attached the panels to his back, then flipped him once more, re-attached the access panel, then lifted him and placed him on the floor. “Off you pop.”

Bob beeped happily and spun around, then zoomed off to find a sun spot to bask in to test out his new equipment.

* * *

The next morning Crowley stumbled to the kitchen and hit the power button on the keurig and waited for his coffee to brew. He used to prefer the retro Italian Moka pot, or the rather more expensive Italian Gaggia espresso machine. But sometimes, for a quick brew in the morning without anything fancy, the keurig had it for simplicity. 

Crowley sipped at the scalding hot coffee (his fireproof body also impervious to heat), and patted the coffee machine gratefully. “Love you” he murmured to it as he felt the caffeine buzz through his system. He heard an angry beep and his gaze took in the Roomba sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor glaring at him, all LEDs on red. 

“Uh…”

Bob inched forward threateningly. Crowley took a step backwards, uncertain. 

Bob flashed his red LEDs again. He appeared to be looking at the coffee maker. He spun slowly as he followed the line of the power cord off the counter and down to the plug socket above the skirting board. Crowley watched carefully. 

Bob inched forward again, and closed in on the wall socket. Crowley narrowed his eyes at the Roomba.

“...Don’t…” he growled in warning.

Bob flashed at him and inched forward a bit more. 

“...Bob…” Crowley hissed.

The vac crept closer still, red lights blinking. 

Crowley raised one threatening eyebrow and made to move forwards…

Bob surged forward and headbutted the plug, a bright blue zap of electricity arced from his own charging port to the plug. There was a loud crack and a wisp of acrid blue smoke. Crowley dived down to pin him to the floor a second too late. 

“You little shit!”

The keurig’s lights went out. Crowley sat up. Bob beeped and scurried away under the sofa. The demon sighed and snapped to clean up the spill off coffee and the broken mug on the floor. “You owe me a new coffee maker, you little bastard! I’m taking it out of your pocket money. No more chainsaw privileges for you for a month, you hear me?”

Later Aziraphale looked at the remains of the keurig in the rubbish bin with an air of confusion and looked up at Crowley who was browsing on his phone for a replacement. “Should I ask?”

Crowley grunted. “Hellspawn got jealous. He thought I loved the coffee machine more than him so he assassinated it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Breaking Bad reference, in case anyone didn't get it ;) My other half said I should put that one in.


	7. it’s all fun and games until the Roomba becomes a ninja

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> big, sharp, cutty thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **reading of chapter 7 by Quefish on[YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYIlumnKOiI) **

Crowley was sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, xbox gaming controller in his hands, flinching left and right as he played. The tv was in split screen two player mode. Aziraphale peered around to see Bob sitting on the floor in front of Crowley, no controller needed, interacting directly with the console. The demon had miracled him every form of wireless connectivity he might ever want. 

They were a fairly even match, Crowley’s snakebite fast reflexes gave him superior reaction time, but the Roomba’s electrical synapses were just as quick. They were currently fairly evenly tied. The timer went off on the oven and Crowley stood reluctantly. “I’m out. Hey, Aziraphale, d’you want to play with him for a bit? You’ll like this game, it’s called ‘halo’, here, you take my controller. You’re the top screen.”

The angel took the controller and tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. Bob took his character down. The angel glared at the smug little appliance. “I’m just learning.” He snipped. 

Crowley finished plating up dinner and looked over to where Aziraphale was grimacing and losing with bad grace. He flung the controller down on the sofa. “I’m not playing any more.” Bob paused the game and beeped at him. It sounded rather like laughter. Crowley grinned. 

“You’re just mad that a vacuum with googly eyes is better at this game than you are.” 

“There’s no good response to that, Crowley, I’m not playing any more. Besides I can’t see at all how that game has anything to do with haloes anyway.” He took a seat at the dining table and stabbed some broccoli with his fork rather more viciously than was strictly necessary. 

The next day Aziraphale came home to find the study looking like a murder in a green grocer’s. The marble table and throne had been shoved against the walls, and as he walked in, a piece of banana hit him in the face then slid wetly down his collar. 

He wiped it off with one hand and took in the tableaux before him. Crowely was standing stock still, mouth open in shock, eyes wide, staring at the angel. He had a peach in one hand. Aziraphale glared at him. Crowley’s eyes slid sideways and down to where Bob was sitting also immobile in the middle of the floor, blue lights blinking nervously. He had three kitchen knives gaffer taped to his bodywork. Bits of orange juice and pulp dripped from the blades onto the floor. 

Crowley pointed at the Roomba accusingly. Bob beeped indignantly and revved his motor at the demon. Crowley looked shocked and affronted at the very idea. Aziraphale growled. 

“I can explain, Angel…” He spotted the smudge of mushy banana on Aziraphale’s collar and hastily snapped it away. “Bob wanted to play fruit ninja. The kinect won’t recognise him as a player because it needs to detect arms and legs and so forth. He was upset he couldn’t join in so I decided to do it for him for real…” The demon petered off under the wilting gaze of the principality. “...Kind of like this…?” He tried, and gently lobbed the peach toward Bob. 

Bob immediately spun around at high speed and sliced the peach into lumps, scattering the pieces around the room at high velocity. The stone skittered across the floor and bounced off the skirting board before spinning to a halt near Aziraphale’s shoe. 

“I’m not talking to you, Crowley.” Aziraphale stalked off toward the lounge. 

Crowley hastily snapped all the mess away and put the furniture back. He approached Bob to try to remove the knives. Bob, annoyed that his fun had been spoiled, scooted under the table to hide. 

“C’mon, Hellspawn. I can’t leave those on you all night, you’ll stab someone in the ankles and sod’s law it’ll be Aziraphale, then I’ll be sleeping on the damn sofa. Come here!” 

Bob scooted further under the table and beeped then spun slowly, blades flashing in defiance. 

“NO! Bad Roomba!”

Crowley was on hands and knees peering under the desk at his recalcitrant child. He tried another tactic. “You remember Parks and Rec, Bob? Your favourite episode?” Bob paused and his lights flashed from an annoyed red back to a curious blue flash. He inched forwards in question. “I’ll do you a trade, yeah?” Bob moved further toward the demon. 

A little while later Aziraphale was sitting in the lounge when Bob shyly rolled in, iPod dock with twin speakers mounted on his back, playing “Hard to say I’m sorry” by Chicago.    


He watched as Bob came to a halt in front of the sofa and circled to face him, looking contrite. The angel stared him down for a moment before movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A flash of flame red hair from the doorway to the study, watching him anxiously. 

Aziraphale sighed and patted the couch next to him. A moment later, Crowley slid onto the cushions and snuggled silently up to the cherub. “‘M sorry, Angel.” he mumbled into his middle as his arms snaked around to hug him. 

“I can’t stay mad at you, dearest. Or you, Bob.” At this Bob beeped to interrupt him. “Sorry, ‘DJ Roomba.’ Just please try to behave in future. And no more knives.”

Later that night, while Crowely was asleep, Aziraphale settled down on the sofa again with a plate full of carefully set aside choice crumbs. He scattered a few on the floor, then reached into his book bag and withdrew a selection of brightly coloured books from it. Bob scooted over with a flurry of happy beeps, spun around devouring the crumbs, then settled down in front of the angel expectantly. 

“Now, which do you want this evening? We’ve got ‘Fatbag: the demon vacuum cleaner’ by Jeremy Strong, ‘The impatient little vacuum’ by Yvonne Jones, or ‘The witch’s vacuum cleaner’ by Terry Pra…” Bob interrupted by headbutting his toes repeatedly. The angel laughed. 

“Yes of course, I should have known that’d be your choice. Ok, ok, hang on, dear boy…” 

Aziraphale flicked a few more crumbs around the lounge then sat back and opened the book to read aloud as Bob trundled quietly around hoovering up the flakes of pastry as he listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes those books exist, and yes I had to drop a Pratchett in there, because we all adore Sir Terry, including the fictional character that his own writing indirectly inspired into creation.


	8. Predicaments and Tartan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naughty Bob terrorises a visitor while "protecting" his Angel. (Because Crowley's Angel is, by extension, also "his".) Then has to make up for his misbehaviour. Then he goes for a walk and they rescue a damsel in distress (based on a true story - see end notes). Aziraphale makes a decision...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **live DRUNK reading of chapter 8 by Quefish on [YouTube](https://youtu.be/YWSx6Kgei3A) **

The doorbell went. As usual, Bob was alert and left off watching “Wall-E” to scoot rapidly over to accompany Aziraphale to answer the door, circling him protectively. It was the supermarket groceries delivery. The delivery driver stomped in carrying the first crate of supplies, then she helpfully took it through to the kitchen before heading out again for the next crate while Aziraphale began unpacking stuff into the cupboards. 

Bob beeped in irritation at the trail of dried mud that had flaked off the delivery driver’s boots all over the floor. When she came to the door with the next batch he followed inches behind her heels, vacuuming after her, motor grumbling in a disgruntled fashion. He made a show of scooting over every patch of floor where she moved a foot, and when he thought she had been there long enough, began headbutting her toes and trying to nudge her toward the door. 

“Uh, your vacuum cleaner is behaving a little odd, Mr. Fell…”

Aziraphale looked over from where he was loading the fridge. “Oh, that’s just Bob, don’t mind him, he won’t hurt you. We confiscated his chainsaw.”

The delivery driver laughed nervously, not entirely sure that Mr. Fell was joking. She felt a tugging and looked down. The Roomba had managed to grab the loose end of a shoelace and was shredding it. “HEY!” she yelled and tried to pull back. Bob put the brakes on and braced against her, still tugging at her shoelace angrily. Aziraphale whistled and gave the vacuum cleaner a stern look, causing the little Roomba to sulkily spit out the remains of the shredded shoelace and return to his charging port, his motors making grumpy little grumbling noises the entire way. 

Once the delivery driver had collected the crates and left, Aziraphale stood over Bob and gave him a serious look. Bob pretended to be asleep. 

“I know you’re awake, you little hellion. Now listen, that is  _ not  _ how we treat guests here. You have to be polite, dear boy. Now promise me you won’t try to eat anyone else’s shoelaces.”

Bob stayed silent or a moment. The angel raised an eyebrow. 

Bob let out a quiet, apologetic beep and flashed his blue LEDs once.    


“That’s better. Now be a good boy until your father gets home and he might take you for a walk, ok?”

Bob flashed his lights again in an appeasing pattern and beeped assent. 

Crowley got home an hour or two later. Bob was trundling around the flat with a little train of carriages linked behind him, each one carrying a small pot plant, with a slightly larger one sitting directly on top of his chassis. 

“Angel? Did you make Bob a train?” Crowley called out, incredulously. 

Aziraphale appeared from where he’d been cleaning the bathroom. “Oh, hello dearest, yes I did. I thought it would be a nice way for him to take all the good plants for a ride in one go as a reward, Also he’s working off his punishment for bullying the ocado driver earlier. He was most dreadfully behaved, and he ate her shoelace.”

Crowley sat down and watched the curious little procession circling the lounge. He called out again. “Are you quite sure that  _ all  _ of these plants have been good, Aziraphale? There’s rather a lot of them.”

Aziraphale returned to the kitchen area to pop the kettle on. “Oh yes, they’ve been very good this week, especially Morticia there, and Karen. Eleanor is close to blooming as well so I thought she deserved a little ride out. I left Kevin, Margaret and Eloise behind though, they haven’t been quite so verdant recently, but they’re trying, so I absolutely insist that you not yell at them today. They’re missing out on a ride, that will do.” 

He got out some mugs and tea bags, placed them on the counter, then went through to the plant room, whistling for Bob to follow him so he could return the plants to their rightful places again and unhook his carriages. “Now go and recharge for a bit while we have a cuppa, dear boy, then your father can take you for a walk after tea.” Bob scooted back to his charging port happily and powered down again.

* * *

A little later, Crowley ambled out with Bob trundling to heel for a saunter. The Roomba occasionally made little diversions on the pavement, either to avoid something unpleasant, or to suck up something he enjoyed like a leaf or litter, banishing them to his pocket lint dimension that Crowley had miracled for him so he never needed emptying. 

Crowley scrolled on his phone as he slunk along, not paying complete attention to his little minion, until he heard an urgent beeping from a few feet behind him. He stopped to see what the problem was. 

Bob was halted next to the front gate of a stately looking house with a lawn in the front of it and a gravel driveway. The lawn was higher than the drive so there was a steeply sloped drop-off down to the drive. It was only a few inches high, but apparently enough to have caused a problem for the robot lawn mower which was stuck there. 

Crowley took in the scene, a pitiful vignette of a lost struggle*. The lawn mower, like a larger version of Bob, had clearly grounded out sideways on the drop-off. It’s wheels had gouged frustrated tracks out of the soil where it had tried and failed to regain traction, trying to free itself and get back to it’s charging port, until it ran out of battery. It’s housing was dusty and had leaves scattered over it from the trees. It had clearly been there, forgotten, for some time. 

Crowley looked up at the house. All the shutters were closed and it had a distinct aura of being empty. Presumably one of those owned by a millionaire who rarely ever bothered visiting and only kept a London address for the cachet. Probably the same for the long forgotten and imperilled robo lawn mower abandoned by the driveway. 

Bob was staring at it, bereft. He headbutted the iron railings sadly. The demon sighed. “I guess that stealing someone’s lawn mower probably falls under ‘evil demonic deeds’, Bob. It certainly doesn’t look like anyone cares about it. If they haven’t noticed that it’s been stuck here all this time they probably won’t notice that it’s gone either.” he considered the situation for a moment. He waved a hand at the iron gate which unlocked and swung open at his touch. Crowley looked around for a moment, checked no one was looking, then darted through the gate and tried to heft the robo mower off the edge of the lawn. 

It was heavier than it looked. He grunted and tried again. It was pretty large, easily three times the size of Bob, and way too big to tuck under his arm and saunter off with. He growled and looked at Bob, who was exuding an aura of puppy dog eyed pleading, despite only having some wobbly stick-on googly eyes and flashing LED lights to achieve the effect with. Crowley rolled his own eyes in frustration.

“YES, Bob, I’m working on it, hang on…” He shrugged and snapped his fingers, immediately teleporting the lawn mower back to his apartment. He then shut the gate and sauntered a little quicker away, motioning Bob to follow him. “C’mon, let’s get home, I have to call Uncle Aziraphale and explain to him why I just landed a lawn mower in the lounge.”

Before he could even get his phone out of his pocket again however, it was already ringing. He answered it. “Yes, sorry Angel, I was literally just about to call you and explain…”

When they got home, Aziraphale was sitting on the floor with a cleaning cloth and a spray bottle, methodically wiping down the filthy appliance. He looked up as Bob and Crowley came through the front door. Bob immediately zoomed toward the lawn mower with a flurry of delighted beeps and began circling it, sweeping up clumps of grass that had fallen out of it, and nudging up against it. 

As soon as Aziraphale stood up, Bob started trying to bulldoze the larger machine over to his charging port. Aziraphale looked down and his face crumpled. “Oh, Crowley, will you look at that. Poor dear. No Bob, No, it doesn’t have the same charging port as you, yours won’t work on it. We’ll have to order one. Look, your father can find one online, you’ll just have to be patient.”

Bob spun around and gave a sad little beep. He settled down next to the lawn mower and powered down, as if snuggling up to it. Aziraphale’s eyes met Crowley’s. Crowley shrugged. “I don’t even have a lawn, Angel. Honestly I was winging it, but you should have seen him, I couldn’t leave it there. Besides, anyone could have stolen it. At least it’s got a good home now. I’ll find a charger, you give Bob some crumbs or something to cheer him up in the meantime.” 

Aziraphale gave his demon a kiss and a gentle hug. “Sometimes I think you’re as soft as I am, dear.” Crowley bit at his nose with a playful growl. 

“Nope, big scary demon, me.”

“Of course you are, dearest.”

* * *

The charger arrived with next day delivery. Crowley also invested in a similar solar panel to Bob’s to help boost the device’s power when possible. They plugged it in and left it to charge up. Bob lingered close by until the little amber charging light changed to a steady green. He erupted into a flurry of excited beeps and zoomed over to headbut Aziraphale’s ankle to get his attention. 

The angel looked up from his paperwork. “What is it, dear boy? Oh, your friend’s woken up I suppose. Well I’m afraid that’s the limit of it as far as I know. We haven’t got a lawn for it to mow. I’m not sure how to even make it work for you…” He trailed off, realising his predicament. He couldn’t very well programme the lumbering great beast to mow the living room. It was just a machine anyway, it wasn’t exactly going to interact with the demonic vacuum cleaner. It’d probably just bulldoze him out of the way, then the little creature would be heartbroken. 

The angel stood and stepped over to the lawn mower to consider his options. Bob followed anxiously behind and alternated circling the angel and then the lawn mower. Aziraphale looked at the pair of them and sighed. “I will almost certainly live to regret this…” 

He snapped his fingers. 

Crowley woke to a deep rumbling sound. He grabbed a pillow and held it over his ears trying to drown it out. After a while he gave up, stretched, and reluctantly got out of bed to investigate. He sauntered through to the lounge, which was empty. He continued toward the study where the noise was a little louder. He stopped in the doorway. Bob was spinning excitedly in the middle of the room, while the robo lawn mower was moving methodically over the alphabet board Crowley had drawn on the floor when Bob first moved in. The mower had a little cardboard pointer attached to the leading edge to enable it to point out letters easier with its larger size. Aziraphale was standing watching it carefully. 

“What the hell’s going on, Angel?” Crowley demanded. Aziraphale flapped his hand in Crowley’s direction to indicate he was concentrating.

“Not yet, wait a moment, dear…”

The lawn mower stopped manouvering. Aziraphale smiled at it. “Wonderful, now I wonder, could you possibly disengage your blades while you’re in the house, dear? They do make you rather more noisy than necessary and there’s no grass to cut in here you see.” The mower obediently dropped a couple of decibels to a quiet whir more akin to Bob’s level. Aziraphale patted it affectionately on the bright orange housing. “Thank you, dear. Now, this is Crowley, he rescued you. Crowley, meet Lydia.”

The robo mower turned around to observe the demon carefully. She wheeled forward and nudged his shins gently then backed off again. Crowley supposed it was a thank you. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbled. “Pleased to meet you, Lydia.” He turned to the angel. “Did she just pick it herself?” 

Aziraphale nodded happily. Crowley thought of something and went to rummage in his desk drawer. After a moment he brought out a little packet, triumphant. “Heh, knew I still had a few left.” he extracted a couple of items from the packet, fiddled a moment then stepped over to the mower. “May I..?” he asked, kneeling in front of her. She beeped quietly and inched forward. Crowley stuck a pair of googly eyes to the front of her housing. “That’s better. Now you match Bob.” The demon grinned. “I can’t believe you just made a lawn mower sentient, Angel. At least I’ll have an even better partner in crime to threaten the plants with now.”

“You’ll do no such thing! Lydia, don’t listen to him, you are  _ not  _ to threaten the plants, what a dreadful idea!” He snapped his fingers and summoned a cute little tartan bow which he stuck on the top of Lydia’s curved plastic housing. “There, now you look prettier, dear girl.” Lydia spun in a little circle while Bob zoomed around her, lights flashing happily. 

Crowley sighed and watched the pair of them cavorting. "This is what love is, Bob. Love is dealing with Tartan." He smirked at Aziraphale’s eye roll. “Now, what d’you want for breakfast, Angel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ok, so Lydia's situation is based on a true story. In summer 2018 I took my classic Saab on a roadtrip across Europe to Sweden to visit her birthplace, Trollhattan. Taking an evening stroll to find a local restaurant from our Air BnB, we came across this self same pitiful vignette and it broke my heart, sticking in my mind ever since. 
> 
> There was a big empty house, clearly a rather expensive one, with huge gardens and sloping gravel driveway. The lawn next to the drive sloped down steeply about a foot, and a robot lawn mower was stuck there, near the gate, forgotten. It's wheels had dug sad little tracks in the soil as it had tried and failed, presumably for hours, to escape it's predicament, grounded out sideways on the edge of the drop-off to the driveway. It had kept on trying to get home until it's batteries died. 
> 
> It sat there, forgotten, covered in dust and dead leaves, apparentley for quite a long time. The house looked closed up and empty, perhaps it's owners live elsewhere and only visit at certain times of year? 
> 
> Readers, it took every ounce of my willpower not to get my angel to climb over the gate and rescue that poor stranded robo mower. I still think about it, out there alone in all weathers, waiting for it's owners to return and save it. 
> 
> Yes, I have a soft spot for anthropomorphic machinery. And so her story had to be told, and in this fairytale, she DOES get rescued and given the nicest home, loving family and a boyfriend. 
> 
> I'm a soft demon.


	9. Don't forget to recycle, folks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia isn't sure what she should be doing, but Aziraphale finds a way for her to help around the house. Crowley gives Bob another upgrade to help, then gets a bit of a surprise later on.  
> \-------  
> A shorter one this week, stay tuned for "Take your vacuum to Hell day" next chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Quefish live-reading chapter 9 on[YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0P4XdO3uddk)**

Aziraphale settled down at Crowley’s ornate red marble desk to do some paperwork, feeling faintly ridiculous in the elaborate gilded throne but he had plenty of space to lay out all of his invoices and receipts to sort through on the enormous desk. Bob scooted around the room busily gathering every speck of dust and lint to keep the place spotless. Lydia on the other hand, lingered by the window, looking somewhat confused as to what she should be doing. 

Aziraphale had an idea. He glanced at the pile of papers on his right hand side that were now rubbish, and called Lydia over to him. “My dear girl, I don’t suppose you would be a gem and engage your blades again please?” Lydia beeped happily, there was a sound of her clutch engaging and the low hum of her blades spinning up underneath. 

“Wonderful, now do you think you could help me with this, please?” Aziraphale dropped a piece of paper in front of her. “Do you suppose you could shred that for me?” Lydia ran over the paper, buzzing happily, and within seconds the sheet was torn into untidy scraps that fluttered out around her in a circle. Aziraphale beamed at her and patted her housing proudly. “Such a helpful girl. Would you like some more?”

Lydia beeped happily and revved her blades a little faster. Aziraphale sat back and slowly fed her the scrap paper piece after piece. When he ran out of unwanted documents, he fetched the cardboard recycling bin from the kitchen and brought it through to go through that as well.

* * *

Crowley came home to a swathe of shredded paper and cardboard littering the floor in the study, surrounding a rather satisfied looking lawn mower. Aziraphale looked up from his work. “Oh, Crowley, I’m so glad you’re home dearest. I sent Bob to his recharging station as I didn’t want him cleaning this up just yet, I need your help with something.”

The demon raised a questioning eyebrow, stalked over and gave his angel a quick kiss and a hug. “Sure, what d’you need love?” Aziraphale indicated the drifts of shredded paper. 

“Lydia has been an absolute dear and has been shredding all the paper and cardboard for me. Initially I was going to get Bob to then vacuum it all up, but it’s supposed to be recycled, it’s a little silly to banish it to another dimension when it could be re-used. Do you suppose you could do another demonic miracle on him so that any paper or cardboard gets diverted and dumped straight into a recycling facility instead, dearest?”

Crowley looked perplexed then laughed. “I’m so glad no one keeps track of the miracles I get up to, Angel, because this has got to be one of the weirdest you’ve asked me for yet…” He sauntered through to the lounge to find Bob. There was a snap of fingers. “C’mon, Hellspawn, Uncle Aziraphale has a job for you, follow me, kid.”

Bob wasted no time in circling the room and happily devouring all of the shredded material surrounding the mower, who spun in slow circles to watch him. When he’d finished, she nudged the little vacuum affectionately. 

“Nice work, team.” Crowley nodded, taking in the now immaculate floor. “Ok, Angel, fajitas for dinner? I made some nice salsa the other day to go with, lemme get the roti pan and make up some fresh wraps.” Aziraphale busied himself clearing away his paperwork and watching the two electrical devices chasing each other around the room, beeping happily.

* * *

Later that night, Crowley woke to hearing a curious snap and sizzle sound from the lounge, and the occasional revving of little motors. He slunk through from the bedroom to see what was going on. He paused in the doorway to take in the scene, first in puzzlement, then understanding dawned, then growing mortification and embarrassment. His jaw fell open. He realised after a moment that he was still staring, shut his mouth, turned silently on his heel and crept back to the bedroom, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Well, at least they’d been using a surge protector anyway. 

Aziraphale rolled over and cuddled his demon. “Wassa matter?” he mumbled sleepily. 

“Uh, don’t go in the lounge, love. Bob and Lydia were sharing a charging port… somehow. Don’t ask me how, but they seem to have worked something out.”

Aziraphale cranked one eye open quizzically. “Wha…?”

“My thoughts exactly, Angel. Best not to think too hard about it I suppose. Go back to sleep, love.” He gave Aziraphale a soft kiss on his forehead and wrapped his long bony limbs around the warmth of the soft cherub, snuggling back to sleep.


	10. Take your vacuum to Hell day (ILLUSTRATED)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's take your child to work day part 2, this time it's Crowley's turn to take Bob along with him.  
> ILLUSTRATION kindly supplied by [ CynSYn.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/CynSyn)  
> Also [ here.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/AMadness2Method)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Quefish's youtube reading of chapter 10 is[HERE](https://youtu.be/mWJAgzLltvA)**

“You can’t be serious, Crowley!”

“Why not? It’ll be fun.”

“Take your child to work day is a human thing, I hardly think it applies to demons, especially when said child is an electrical appliance, and ‘work’ is the deepest pit of hell.”

“You’re the one who said I should take him out more. You take Lydia to the park so she can mow some grass, I take Bob to head office. He can, I dunno, vacuum up the brimstone or something. He’s a demonically possessed creature, Aziraphale, they can hardly object. He’ll fit right in.”

Aziraphale sighed dramatically. “Very well then. I’ll take Lydia to the park, you take your demonic offspring to Hell. Just make sure you bring him back again, and keep him away from the pits of boiling sulphur, we’ll never get the smell out if he decides to go for a swim, he’ll stink of rotten eggs for  _ weeks _ .”

The first obstacle was the escalator. 

Hell hadn’t exactly been developed with accessibility in mind. Crowley growled with irritation.  _ Fine _ . They’d use the service elevator instead. The dark filthy one that reeked of stale urine. True, he  _ could  _ have picked Bob up and carried him under his arm, but he also didn’t want to look like one of those people who carries their dog around in a damn handbag in the process. Besides, that wasn’t the point. 

Bob deployed his red LED lights once the lift doors opened. Not because he was angry, but because he wanted to fit in and look demonic. Before they left home, Crowley had put a little pair of red plastic horns on his lid as well. Bob had been delighted at that and had rushed into the plant room to beep threateningly at the plants in his new costume.

The little vac was delighted to find that the floor was filthy with grit and dust, and set about sucking it up eagerly as he followed Crowley through the dimly lit hallways. Eventually Crowley stepped through a door into a waiting room by an office. He sat down and snapped his fingers to summon a few OHP acetates to check his presentation over. He wished Hell would catch up with the times and invest in a smart board or tablets or something. Oh well. Bob trundled around under the chairs, sucking up dirt and humming quietly to himself. Crowely got out his phone and started scrolling while he waited. 

Bob worked his way around the edge of the room until he came up against a door that wasn’t properly closed, he nudged it and went through, unseen by anyone. 

A little while later, Crowley’s peripheral vision picked up on something snaking along the floor. He looked up from his phone. Bob was back and had a pale lilac scarf caught around his brushes. He was tugging it along behind him. He came up to Crowley and beeped plaintively for help. The demon looked down in confusion, and bent to try to untangle the scarf from the Roomba. It looked familiar somehow…

A moment later, an extremely angry looking Beelzebub stormed into the room. They glared at Crowley sitting there with the pale purple scarf in his hands, glared at the Roomba, snatched the scarf from Crowley with narrowed eyes without saying a word, turned on their heel, and strode back into their office again with it, slamming the door behind them. Crowley suddenly remembered where he recognised the finely tailored article of clothing from with a smirk. This was going to be delightful to taunt Beez with later, he thought. 

A few minutes later a familiar face walked past the waiting room. Crowley called out after them. “Oi! Eric, got a minute?” The Disposable Demon backtracked and stood in the doorway. 

“Who, me?” he asked, surprised to be being hailed by a senior demon. 

“Yes, you. Need you to do me a favour. Can you sit here and watch Bob for me while I have a meeting with Beelzebub? I won’t be long, but don’t want the little hellion wandering off where he shouldn’t again. I think he just annoyed the Prince of Hell.”

“Bob?” Eric looked confused. Crowley whistled. The Roomba trundled out from underneath the chairs and beeped. Eric stared. “That’s a vacuum cleaner…”

Bob flashed his red LEDs angrily and twirled around, showing off his little red plastic horns. Crowley grinned. “Nope, he’s a demon, aren’t you, Hellspawn? Go on, I let you have it back again especially for today - show him.”

Bob belched a lick of flame across the floor from his flamethrower attachment. The Disposable demon leapt several feet backwards in alarm. Crowley smirked. “See? Demon. Just keep him in here and make sure he doesn’t get into any more trouble, ok?” 

A moment later, Crowley was summoned into Beelzebub’s office. He sauntered in with an easy grin, tasting the air with his tongue with mild interest. Beelzebub’s brow furrowed at that. Crowley licked his lips and gave a half laugh. “Your shirt’s not done up right” he commented, just for the enjoyment of seeing the briefest expression of panic cross the Prince of Hell’s features as they looked down to check their clothing in alarm. They didn’t need to confirm it anyway, Crowley’s excellent sense of smell already told him who had been in the office before him, and who that lilac scarf had belonged to. “Anyway,” Crowley continued, “I’ve got that presentation you wanted…” 

When Crowley came out again he found Eric sitting cross legged on the floor, weilding a laser pointer and skittering it across the floor while the Roomba chased after the dancing point of light. He looked up when Crowley appeared, with a smile. “This is better than the hellhound puppies. He only burned me once so far, and I haven’t been bitten yet!”

Crowley made a mental note to get a laser pointer, and whistled for Bob to follow him. The Roomba burped one last gout of flame toward Eric and trundled out after Crowley. He decided they should walk home via the park and meet up with Aziraphale and Lydia there. They found Aziraphale sitting on the bench reading a book near the duck pond, while Lydia grazed at the grass behind him contentedly. Bob scurried over in a flurry of delighted beeps to circle the mower and headbut her affectionately. Crowley took a seat next to his angel and pressed a fond kiss to his cheek. “Afternoon, love.”

Aziraphale kissed Crowley back and hummed happily. “Hello, dear. Did Bob have a good time today then?”

Crowley grinned wickedly and looked at the two appliances cavorting together on the grass. “Oh yes. He made quite an impression. Got some juicy gossip for you too…” He related the scarf incident and what had happened in Beelzebub’s office. Aziraphale’s face was the image of scandalized shock. 

“Really? I’d never have thought of those two…”

Crowley grinned and nodded. “It was definitely him, I’d recognise that smell anywhere, and the scarf of course. Anyway, who are we to talk? Kind of nice to know we’re not the only ones.” He broke off as Lydia rumbled up to Aziraphale and nudged his shin insistently. She pivoted and pointed down the path a little. 

Aziraphale looked up and his features set into a disapproving scowl. “Robert J. Crowley! You get back here this instant, you delinquent boy!” The Roomba was chasing a small terrier on a long flexi lead, which was tugging so hard that his owner was at risk of falling over. Crowley joined in. 

“Oi! Hellspawn! Get your hockey puck butt back here right now!”

Bob paused in his mischief, spun around and crept slowly back to the angel and demon on the bench. He flashed his LEDs red at Lydia briefly when he rejoined them then spun around to face away from her, sulking under the bench. Crowley laughed. “Don’t be mad at her because she grassed you up, Bob, she’s a bloody angelic lawn mower, of  _ course  _ she’s going to grass you up.” 


	11. Glitter Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's errant child temporarily goes missing, then he receives an unwanted parcel, plots revenge, and takes Bob on another outing to hell, recieves several irritated answerphone messages, and then the truth of the Pocket Lint Dimension is finally revealed... A slightly longer chapter this time to make up for the shorter one on Saturday.  
> \----------  
> This chapter is a gift for [ CrazyBeCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyBeCat/pseuds/CrazyBeCat) who has left so many lovely comments on other chapters, full of hilarious suggestions for future Bob shenanigans, many of which I've been putting to good use. I consider CrazyBeCat to be my unofficial co-author on Roomba of Doom now :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Quefish doing their wonderful live reading of chapter 11 on Youtube[HERE](https://youtu.be/aIqBLZh6B00)**

Crowley hefted another box of books from the boot of the Bentley to carry upstairs, at least this was the second to last box. Aziraphale had insisted in having some bookshelves and some of his favourites in the study at the flat so he’d have more to read when they were at home together. They still had to go and get some bookshelves from Ikea and that was going to be one hell of an experience if the legends were true. Crowley had been putting it off. He wasn’t sure which bit was supposed to be more stressful - picking out the furniture or assembling the damn stuff. By all accounts it was supposed to be a “relationship tester.” Whatever that was. 

He shuffled out of the lift and through the door of the flat which he’d wedged open, dumped the box and went back down for the last one. Once that was done he sat down to catch his breath. It was a little while before he noticed that not only was Bob’s charging port unoccupied, but the little Roomba was nowhere to be seen. Usually he’d be buzzing around the front door eager to see what new and interesting things were happening. The silence was unnerving. 

“Bob?” Crowley called out uncertainly, sauntering from room to room. 

“Dude?” He checked the bedroom and under the bed. 

“Doomba?” Nothing in the walk-in closet either. 

“Hellspawn?” Nothing in the bathroom. 

“Demon Child?” Nothing in the study. 

“Oi! Kiddo! Where are you? I’m not messing around here!” Nothing in the plant room either. 

Crowley was getting anxious. He checked on Lydia, who was happily dozing on her charging port. “Hey, Lydia, where’s Bob?” The robo mower blinked a light as if waking up, then raised her cutting height briefly and dropped again in an approximation of a shrug. Crowely tried not to let his nerves get the better of him. He looked at the front door, then at the plant pot he’d wedged it open with. 

_Oh no…_

“BOB!” he yelled, skidding out into the hallway, running down to the end and slipping as he rounded the corner. The hallway was empty. Not a soul in sight. He checked the stairwell, but it was behind a heavy door, and there were no pieces of broken vacuum at the bottom anyway, it was all clear. That just left the lift.

“Bob! Where the heaven are you, you little idiot of an implement? Come on kiddo, where’d you go?” He descended a floor and cast about again with no luck. He thundered down the stairs rather than wait for the lift again and repeated the exercise on the next one down with rising panic. How was he going to explain this to Aziraphale? What could they do? Put posters up on lamp posts asking people to keep an eye out for a demonic vacuum cleaner? Yeah, that’d be a great way to get sectioned.

Two more floors later and a door opened as he yelled down the hallway. A white haired old lady poked her head out inquisitively. “Oh, it’s that nice Mister Crowley” she remarked to someone behind her. “Hello dear, are you quite alright?” Crowley pulled to a halt, breathing hard, and tried to think how to explain himself so he didn’t come across as a madman. 

“Um…” He saw a longhaired black cat sitting smugly on the floor behind the woman. Mrs Stanley, that was her name. He should remember all the tenants, after all, he did own the entire damn building anyway. Mrs Stanley lived alone, if you didn’t count her cat. 

“...I left my flat door open and I’ve got one of those robot vacuum cleaners and it kind of escaped, I don’t suppose you’ve seen it have you?”

“Why yes, Mister Crowley, it’s right here. I must say I do like its little wobbly eyes, how very droll. I saw it coming down the hallway and thought it best I let it in until I found out who owned it. It’s been rather helpful, I spilled some biscuit crumbs earlier and it’s tidied them all up for me while it’s been here.” She smiled up at the demon warmly. Crowley let out a sigh of relief he didn’t realise he’d been holding onto and smiled back weakly. 

“Glad he’s been making himself useful anyway, sorry to bother you, I’d better be taking him back now.” He bent down and picked up Bob from the floor, tucking him under his arm. “See you later Mrs. Stanley.”

Once they got back up to Crowley’s flat again, he placed Bob gently on the sofa and checked him over for damage. Luckily he was fine apart from some cat hair caught up in his brushes, which Crowley tenderly combed out. He flipped the little vacuum right side up again then popped him down on his charging port with a gentle pat. 

“Don’t go scaring me like that again, kid. It’s dangerous out there buddy, you mustn’t leave the house without me or Uncle Aziraphale, ok? We don’t mind taking you for walks, just let us know, but please don’t do that again, I thought I was gonna bloody discorporate.”

Bob beeped sleepily at him. He'd run his batteries down a fair bit and hadn’t had enough light for his solar panels to boost him while he’d been wandering the hallways and riding the lift. He dozed off.

* * *

...Then awoke with a start at the loud and colourful expletives being yelled by Crowley in the study. Bob charged through to see what was wrong in a panic. The demon looked up from where he was sitting on his throne, a cardboard box open on the red marble desk. Crowley was covered head to toe in bright pink glitter. So was the desk, and the throne, and the floor. Bob took in the sight in astonishment. 

_So much_ **_stuff_ ** _to vacuum up!_

He beeped loudly in delight and surged forward to start vacuuming up the glitter with glee. Crowley stared down at him incredulous, still in shock over the unexpected glitter bomb. He stood slowly, more particles cascading off him in shimmering waves and sighed. He reached out to sweep the mess from the table onto the floor for Bob to suck up, then shook himself where he stood to get the worst off. 

“At least _you’re_ enjoying this anyway,” he remarked, sourly. Bob paused to look at him in confusion and beeped. Crowley shrugged. Bob scooted over to his keyboard in the corner and spelled out “n-o-t-h-a-p-p-y-?” Crowley smiled weakly. “Uh, well having loads of annoying stuff everywhere isn’t really what makes us happy, I know you like having lots of little pieces of stuff to clean up, but I don’t. This was a prank by someone, meant to annoy me.”

Bob considered this for a moment. Someone had set out to make Crowley unhappy. Bob did not like this one bit. His LEDs turned red and he growled his motor. He headbutted a scorch mark on the wall. Crowley laughed. “You want your flamethrower back so you can wreak revenge on the perpetrator?” Bob beeped assent. The demon couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe Bob, but we gotta find them first. Anyway, you can finish with the floor stuff, I’m going to miracle away the rest of the glitter on me and the chair.”

Crowley sat on the sofa glowering, deep in thought as he slurped his coffee. After a little while, Bob trundled in and bumped against his foot repeatedly until the demon looked down at him. “What’s up, Hellspawn?” he asked affectionately, nudging the vacuum with his toe. 

Bob revved his motor backwards briefly and spat out first one, then two, then three dead flies at Crowley’s feet. They had little bits of pink glitter on them. Crowley’s eyes widened as he stared at them. “Bob, you bloody genius!” 

Bob beeped happily and nudged Crowley’s foot then beckoned him to follow him back through to the letter board in the study. After a while Crowley had the little Roomba placed carefully on the desk and was miracling several tools into existence to do some tinkering.

* * *

A little while later Aziraphale came home with takeout, took one look at the modifications happening on the study table and a concerned look darkened his features. “I thought I said no more Robot Wars, Crowley?” The demon looked up from his work with a sly grin.

“You did indeed. Don’t worry, this isn’t about that. It’s something else. Bob wants to help with something, so he asked for an upgrade.”

“Is it permanent?” the angel looked skeptical.

“Maybe, if he’s responsible with it.”

“He’s a demonic vacuum cleaner, dear, how responsible do you think he’ll be?”

Bob beeped indignantly, upside down. 

“Oi, be nice, Angel, give him a little credit.”

“Ok, he’s your hellspawn and deeply influenced by your mischievous demonic shenanigans, you’re hardly a good role model sometimes, dearest. Promise me that this new modification is on a trial basis, subject to good behaviour.”

Crowley sighed and replaced an access panel on Bob’s underside. “Fine. D’you hear that, Kiddo? Gotta behave with this one in the house, ok? Or Uncle Aziraphale says you can’t keep it.”

Bob beeped again in agreement and wiggled his wheels. Crowley lifted him carefully and set him down on the floor again. Next he snapped a tennis ball into existence and placed it down into the new arm attached to Bob’s lid. The Roomba flexed the new appendage carefully, and then swung it quickly, launching the tennis ball so hard at the wall that it bounced back across the room and bounced off the wall behind them as well. Crowley grinned demonically. “Looks good.”

Aziraphale eyed the two of them warily. “Should I even ask what all this is in aid of, dear?”

“Probably best not, love. C’mon, what did you get in for dinner?”

* * *

Crowley carried Bob outside and placed him on the carpeted floor on the passenger side of the Bentley. “Make yourself useful while you’re down there will you? Aziraphale doesn’t half leave some grit in the carpet sometimes, it could do with a bit of a vacuum.” Bob beeped happily in response and whirred his motor as he spun on the spot, getting all the dust in reach. He couldn’t do the nooks and crannies, but it was something. 

The Bentley seemed to be stuck on a loop of playing “I want to break free” by Queen. Crowley wondered why this song in particular, until he noticed Bob revving his motor in time with the music, occasionally beeping along and spinning two and fro as if dancing. It took Crowley several minutes before he recalled the music video for the song and a slow smile suffused his features.

He patted the dashboard with a grin and addressed the car directly. “Are you playing this one especially for Bob, girl?” The Bentley briefly turned the music up and then down again in response. “Is it because of the vacuum cleaner in the video then?” The Bentley turned the music up and down again and gave a short, quiet beep of her horn in response. Crowley laughed at the ridiculousness of it. He guessed there weren’t an awful lot of songs about vacuum cleaners (Unless you counted _Fat and Frantic’s_ “ _last night my wife hoovered my head_ ” from the 80s, a bit obscure that one though.) So the Bentley was clearly doing the best it could with what it had available. He wondered if she could communicate with Bob or not. Maybe he’d find out one day. 

They pulled up outside 201 Bishopsgate, the office building which served as a portal to Heaven and Hell via the Broadgate Tower entrance, and picked Bob up to carry him in. He murmured to the little vacuum under his breath as they descended. “Ok you know the plan once we’re in there, you’re on distraction duty while I do the other thing. If we get separated, meet me back at the lobby ok?” Bob beeped affirmatively.

Once on the lower levels, Crowley placed Bob on the floor and led the way, the little Roomba following at his heels. Occasionally if another demon got too close, Bob would belch a little gout of flame at their ankles to remind them to keep their distance and not step on him, reinforcing his demonic status as one of them. 

Eventually they got to the waiting room outside Beelzebub’s office. Crowley pulled a little stack of fireworks from his pocket and arranged them in the hopper on Bob’s lid, stacking them so with each movement of the mechanism, another would drop into place near the flamethrower spout to be lit, then Bob could drop each one into the waiting recess on his lever arm ready to launch. “All ok, buddy?” Crowley whispered to him. Bob beeped and his LEDs flashed red in mischief. “OK, off you go, get me a few minutes, ok?” 

Bob trundled off outside while Crowley took a seat in the waiting room, hiding behind a copy of the Infernal Times as he lounged back in the seat. A few minutes later the first bang broke the peace as Bob launched the first firework into the air, followed by a flurry of subsequent explosions and bright lights. Demons flocked from all corners to gawp at the spectacle. Bob zoomed around, hiding under things and darting out to launch another firework from another spot before quickly scooting away before anyone could see where it came from. 

Sure enough, soon Beelzebub ran from their office to see what all the fuss was about, and Crowley took the opportunity to slink in behind them. He stood in the middle of their office and surveyed the area, before stalking across to the filing cabinet and opening a drawer at random. He pulled something from his pocket and wedged it in there, closed it carefully, and moved to the desk drawer next. He moved around the room fiddling, then slunk out again and made his way to the exit. 

The fireworks had stopped, so he ambled to the base of the escalator until Bob hove into view, darting from shadow to shadow until he he was at Crowley’s feet. The demon smiled and picked up his little minion, tucking him under his arm as he stepped onto the escalator, whistling quietly under his breath all the way up. 

When they got outside, the Bentely beeped her horn briefly at their approach. Bob beeped in reply and his LEDs flashed blue with happiness. Crowley laughed. “So you two _do_ talk then?” He placed Bob on the floor by the back seat this time so he could vacuum there a little on the drive home.

* * *

Aziraphale was already there, and broached a bottle of red wine to share with his demon as he came in the door. “Everything ok, darling?” he called out, hearing Bob being placed down and scooting to his charging port with a happy little beep. 

Crowley sauntered through to the kitchen and wrapped his angel up in a fond hug from behind, squeezing his soft middle affectionately and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “Fabulous, love. Took the Hellspawn out on a little excursion again. We had fun.”

“Excursion? Would that have anything to do with the fourteen answerphone messages that your boss left this afternoon? They sound frightfully annoyed, dearest.”

Crowley laughed. “Only fourteen? I gotta listen to this…” He grabbed the wine glass, gave his husband a quick kiss then ambled through to the study to have a listen, nudging Bob with his toe on his way past. “Hey, kiddo, you might wanna come hear this too, should be good.” Bob obediently followed him to the study. Crowley lounged back in his throne and waved a hand at the answerphone as he sipped at his wine. 

*Message 1*: *Beep* “Crowley! Crowley? What the fuck d’you think you’re up to? I opened my bloody drawer and there was a coil sprung toy snake in there. The bastard thing sprang out and nearly hit me in the face. I know it was you, you bastard!”  
  
There was the sound of a filing cabinet being opened and then a short scream and the sound of a mobile phone clattering to the floor.

*Message 2*: *Beep” “CROWLEY! You son of a bitch, you put another one in the filing cabinet you bastard! Where else are they? How many more are there? Why aren’t you answering?” 

Beelzebub’s footsteps around their office indicated that they’d reached their office chair and Crowley could hear it rolling a little way across the floor as they prepared to sit down. He bit his lip and tried to restrain a giggle in anticipation. 

*HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNKKKKKK!!!!!!!* the wail of a canned air horn blasted over the speakers, startling Bob slightly, but Crowley reached out and petted him with his toe in reassurance. He heard more clattering noises as Beelzebub fell out of their chair, and the sound of their mobile being dropped yet again, the message ended. 

*Message 3*: *Beep* “ YOU ARE FUCKING DEAD, CROWLEY! Air horn under my bloody seat? What kind of trick is that to pull for fuck’s sake? WHAT ELSE DID YOU DO, CROWLEY? You call me back RIGHT NOW, damn you!”

*Message 4*: *Beep* “Stink bomb? REALLY? You are _so_ dead.”

*Message 5*: *Beep* “CROWLEY! _More_ fucking snakes, what the hell? How many _are_ there?” *clatter* *BANG* “FOR FUCK’S SAKE CRAWLY YOU BLOODY SERPENT!” 

*Message 6*: *Beep* “AND IN MY FUCKING COFFEE CAN? WHERE ELSE?”

*Message 7*: *Beep* “ok I found the one in the rubbish bin too you bastard. There’s bloody coily spring snakes all over this office now, and the entire contents of the coffee can, not to mention the rubbish bin all over the floor. You are _dead_.” 

*Message 8*: *Beep* “IT WAS IN THE FUCKING _TOILET_ . If this is about the glitter, you went _way_ overboard on revenge you arsehole. Besides _YOU_ invented glitter, damn you. It’s your fault anyway.”

*Message 9*: *Beep* “FLYPAPER? REALLY? It just fell down from the ceiling. I’ve just spent ten bloody minutes peeling my dudes off it. You’ve gone too far now, Crowley.”

*Message 10*: *Beep* “I found the silly string can taped under the desk too. If you don’t call me back within the bloody hour and tell me what else is hidden around here I’m sending you ten metric tons of bloody glitter and burying your Bentley in it!” 

*Message 11*: *Beep* “Look, I’m sorry about the glitter, ok? It was just a warning for you to keep quiet about me and Gabriel. We can be adults about this, just tell me where else you hid stuff!”

*Message 12*: *Beep* “Please Crowley, I can’t take any more exploding snakes, make it stop. I’m sorry.”

*Message 13*: *Beep* “WHAT WILL IT TAKE TO MAKE IT STOP?”

*Message 14*: *Beep* “HOW MANY MORE PLACES CAN YOU HIDE A BLOODY COIL SPRING SNAKE FOR FUCKS SAKE? I’M _SORRY_ , OK? I’M SORRY!” 

By this point, Crowley was wheezing and doubled over with laughter. Bob was also beeping in a curiously hysterical way, shaking on the floor. Aziraphale observed them, leaning in the doorway with his glass of wine, shaking his head, but unable to hide a smile despite himself. 

The phone rang again. Crowley tried to regain his breath, it went to answerphone. *Beep* “CROWLEY JUST CALL ME BACK! I can’t take this any more! I…” Crowley picked up the receiver and coughed slightly. 

“Oh, hi, Beez, sorry I wasn’t home, missed your calls, what’s up?” He tried to sound casual. 

He listened carefully, nodding and making the odd disinterested “mmm” sound now and then. Aziraphale could only make out a vague string of invective from across the room as Crowley held the receiver to his ear. Eventually Crowley nodded with a carefully straight face, said “Right,” and hung up the phone. 

He sat back and burst into gales of laughter again, too weak from giggles to even drink his wine. Aziraphale raised a questioning eyebrow at him and walked over, perching himself on the edge of the desk while he waited for Crowley’s giggles to subside. Crowley wiped a tear from his eye and reached out to scoop Aziraphale up and drag him off the desk and onto his lap, where he kissed him. “It’s ok, love. We called a truce. That was _far_ too much fun though.”

“Glad to hear it, I can’t imagine doing anything like that to Gabriel, I wouldn’t dare.” Crowley’s eyes went wide and his gaze darted away guiltily. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at the demon suspiciously. 

“Crowley…?”

Crowely suddenly took an intense interest in the view out of the window.

“Crowley? look at me.”

Crowley reluctantly dragged his gaze back to meet Aziraphale’s. “Mmmm?” He was biting his lip. 

“Did you do something to Gabriel as well?”

“... not recently.” 

“WHAT did you do to Gabriel, Crowley?” Aziraphale demanded. 

“I said it wasn’t recent, it was yonks ago, before the apocalypse, it’s fine. He hasn’t figured it out yet anyway."

“Figured _what_ out, Crowley?” 

The demon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his guilty look intensifying. 

“... that there isn’t really a pocket lint dimension.”

“Pardon?”

“Bob’s dust box doesn’t empty into a custom dimension I miracled for him, although that was the original idea. It comes out in Gabriel’s office. It has been for years.”


	12. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for mention of a spider. BUT: it's not described in detail, is a more comic kind of comedy spider who is mildly offended by the screaming of huge creatures around it. The spider is removed but not harmed. This is fluff/comedy so nothing bad happens. 
> 
> Anyhow, summary: Bob becomes Crowley's knight in shining plastic housing, and discovers some new demonic powers of his own that even his parents didn't know he possessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quefish live reading of chapter 12 on [YouTube](https://youtu.be/eAtAVsCqOg0)

Crowley yelped and leapt onto the coffee table. Aziraphale peered across from behind his book, worried. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing, what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, everythingsss fine. Can’t a guy ssstand on his own coffee table?” the demon hissed, embarrassed. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Where’s the spider?”

Crowley pointed down, shamefaced. He didn’t take his eyes off the creature scuttling across the floor, far too large for his liking, eight legs skittering on the concrete with tiny _taptaptaptap_ sounds. “Sssspider,” the demon hissed, shuddering. Aziraphale looked at him strangely. 

“Crowley, you’re a _snake_ , dear, are you honestly telling me you’re bothered by a _spider_?” Crowley shivered and tucked his gangly limbs tighter under him, nodding.

“Too many legsssss” he hissed, glaring at the offending arachnid. “Take it out, Angel?” His eyes pleading. Aziraphale closed his book with a sigh and stood, but before he could take a step further, Bob zoomed across the floor with an angry wailing beep and charged over the spider. He trundled on for a few inches, leaving no trace of it behind. Crowley whooped. 

“Bob, you fucking legend! Aziraphale, gimme some crumbs for him!” Aziraphale stood agape in shock. 

“But he just _ate_ it… _alive_!” the angel wailed. He had wanted to take it outside. 

“Relax, Angel, it’ll be fine, it’ll still be alive, it’s just not… here…” Crowley grinned demonically then burst into gales of laughter.

* * *

In Heaven, Gabriel flicked another erant piece of dust from his paperwork with irritation. He had no idea why everything had become so dusty in here over the past few years. It had started a while before armageddon but hadn’t stopped. In fact it had been getting worse since then, not to mention the mysterious cascade of pink glitter the other day. He’d been finding crumbs all over his office. No one even _ate_ up here so lord knows where it was all manifesting from. It was a nuisance. 

Then something hit his head with a tiny, soft thud. He flinched and looked around suspiciously. His head tickled. He reached up to scratch it and felt something _horrible_. 

With a strangled scream, the archangel flailed backwards, brushing madly at his hair. The spider landed on his desk and glared up at him indignantly. Gabriel’s scream pitched higher and he ran back across the room in terror until he was cowering against the far wall. The spider sat on his desk and stared at him in confusion. 

The spider was annoyed. It had been enjoying an amble across the floor when everything had gone whirly and it had landed on that tall creature’s head, dizzy from its interdimensional journey, and now it was being yelled at by a huge monster that sounded like a 4 year old girl. The spider could swear that scream was going ultrasonic. Then another huge creature entered the room, looking irritated. 

“What the heaven is wrong, Gabriel?” Michael demanded. Gabriel pointed a quivering finger at his desk, where the spider sat, wondering what to do with itself. Michael looked at it. “Yes? What’s the problem? It’s a spider.”

Gabriel whimpered. “Please make it go away. It landed on me. It landed on my…” he shuddered in revulsion. “... On my _head_ !” He pulled a face. “It _touched_ me!” 

Michael sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperation. She reached out gentle hands to pick up the spider, flung a withering look at the cowering archangel, and stalked out to find somewhere safe to release it.

* * *

Bob was feeling very pleased with himself. He had saved the day, and made Crowley happy. It felt good. He scooted around the rest of the flat with a purpose. Crowley, intrigued, followed to see what he was up to. Eventually Bob began nudging a plant pot to one side - very carefully so as not to tip it. Crowley stepped forward to nudge the pot aside with his toe for Bob, wondering what his little minion wanted. 

He rather rapidly leapt backwards, and in the absence of any furniture to jump on in the plant room, simply leapt onto the wall in defiance of gravity, and stuck there watching as Bob chased another errant spider down that had been hiding behind the plant pot. He sucked it up and despatched it like the first. 

(In heaven there was another strident scream.)

Bob spun around, satisfied, then twirled around looking for Crowley in confusion. 

“Uh, up here, buddy,” came a voice from halfway up the wall. Bob shuffled back a bit to get a better view. He beeped in confusion. “Sorry, kid. Didn’t want it running over my foot.” Crowley shivered in disgust, then stepped down off the wall again and dusted himself off. “Thanks for that though, Hellspawn, I appreciate it. You’re now on official spider duty, ok?” He patted the vac affectionately.

* * *

A few days later Aziraphale heard Crowley singing something from the study and wandered through to see what was going on. He was standing on the desk, holding Bob upside down on the ceiling, aiming toward a cobweb in the corner. He was singing quietly:

“Spider-vac, spider-vac, does whatever a spider-vac does…”

His head spun round as he noticed Aziraphale in the doorway and dropped his hands guiltily, then his eyes shot open wide in surprise and his head snapped up again, arms up, and paused in confusion at what he saw. 

When he’d taken his hands away, Bob hadn’t dropped. He was still stuck to the ceiling, and was now trundling about up there on his own. 

“...Oh.” Crowley managed, weakly, very, very confused. “...I had no idea he could do that.”

Bob made his way to the corner and vacuumed up the cobweb and its inhabitant in one deft movement. (In heaven there was another inarticulate screech accompanied by archangelic flailing.) 

Angel and demon stood in the study staring at the ceiling as Bob decided to dust around the light fixtures. Then they looked at each other. Crowley shrugged. “It’s a new one on me, Angel.” They both resumed watching the Roomba as he trundled about on the ceiling, apparently happy. 

Aziraphale shrugged as well. “I suppose he gets it from you, dear. You can defy gravity, therefore so can he. How is he going to get down again though?” There was a humming sound and Lydia trundled in, circling around trying to find Bob. 

“He’s up there, Lydia,” Aziraphale pointed out, helpfully. The robo mower backed up a bit until she could take in the view better, and beeped in surprise. Bob stopped his circling and beeped back at her. He appeared to be thinking for a moment, his lights moving in thoughtful patterns, until he appeared to come to a decision. He whirred up his motors rapidly, then there was a short, sharp **_click_ **. 

Bob was on the floor, right side up, next to Lydia. Crowley stared at him in shock. “What the hell? Did… did Bob just figure out how to _snap_?” 

Bob beeped happily and zoomed in a circuit around the mower. He flashed his lights at the angel and demon, then scooted back to his charging port for a nap. Crowley stared at his partner incredulously. Aziraphale laughed. “I suppose he’s rather more demonic than even _you_ knew, darling. Either that or he’s picking it up as he goes along. Just please promise me you'll never play with hellfire around him lest he start experimenting with that as well.”

Aziraphale looked at Lydia, feeling vaguely disappointed that she hadn’t seemed to pick up any angelic attributes yet, save for a habit of grassing up Bob when he got up to his more nefarious shenanigans. Perhaps it would come with time. He patted her affectionately. “Fancy a walk in the park to mow some grass, Lydia?” She beeped happily, and Aziraphale wandered through to the hallway to fetch his coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has some Lydia being the angelic little mower that she is. Crowley tries to tempt an angelic lawnmower to be naughty, good deeds are done, plants threatened, and angels hugged.


	13. Landscaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale takes Lydia out to do some Good Deeds. The next day, Crowley takes both the appliances out and attempts to get Lydia to assist with some more nefarious ones. Then more random fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **have a (drunk)[YouTube Reading](https://youtu.be/iheQIWj2l3Q) by Quefish!**

Aziraphale ambled down the street with Lydia trundling along behind him happily. Bob scooted here and there investigating interesting things to vacuum up on the pavement. The angel appeared to have a distinct destination in mind, and after a short walk, found what he was looking for. 

The house was old fashioned and in a poor state of repair, but clearly still lived in. Dingy lace curtains hung in the unwashed windows, and an ancient car sat mouldering in the driveway, it clearly hadn’t been driven in many years. The lawn was a tangled mess of weeds. He paused by the gate, and could glimpse through the glass of the front door, the shape of an elderly person shuffling along the hallway with a zimmer frame. He smiled and looked at the lawn, then winked at Lydia. With a snap, he ensured that the occupant wouldn’t notice anything he was about to do. 

Aziraphale opened the creaky gate, and ushered Lydia through and onto the lawn, where she set about mowing the overly long grass with relish. Bob scooted around the driveway, bored, and just vacuuming up dead leaves and any rubbish he spied while they waited. Once Lydia was finished and the garden looked a bit tidier, they left quietly. 

Aziraphale continued on, looking for lawns where the occupants didn’t seem to have the resources to mow it themselves easily, and letting Lydia loose in each one in turn. They paused at the patisserie where the appliances waited patiently outside while Aziraphale went inside to grab some pastries. On the way home he messily munched on a croissant, ensuring a nice trail of crumbs for Bob to devour as he followed the angel closely.

* * *

The next day it was Crowley’s turn to take the appliances for a walk. He ensured that Aziraphale was otherwise occupied before he slunk out, so that the angel wouldn’t see the plant he hid under his jacket as he slipped out of the door. He’d yelled at it for having wilting leaves, and shown it to the rest of the pants before removing it and running the garbage disposal unit loudly for a few moments, while the offending plant sat untouched next to the sink. Next he grabbed a random empty pot and took it to the plant room to show the rest, leaving it in the middle of the floor for them to think about. 

The plant whose death had just been faked was now being surreptitiously carried downstairs and out the door. “Ok, Lyds, lead the way,” he murmured at the mower, and followed along as she led him to the elderly person’s house where she’d mowed the lawn the day before. Crowley paused at the gate, and withdrew a trowel from his back pocket. Sidling through the gate, he picked a nice sunny spot where the plant would be nicely visible from the lounge window when it finally flowered, which he was sure it was going to, if it knew what was good for it anyway. He dug a small hole, removed it from the pot, fluffed it’s roots up a little, placed it in the hole and patted down with some miracled compost. 

He double checked no one was looking, then snapped his fingers to summon the world’s smallest raincloud a few inches above the plant to give it a quick watering before banishing it again with a flick of his hand. “Now you know I’ll be checking up on you, I check up on all my Fallen plants, so you’d better behave, right? I’ll be keeping an eye on you. I planted you and I can just as easily set Lydia here on you to turn you into mulch, capisce?” 

Lydia beeped in alarm and backed up hastily as if to distance herself from the demon’s words. He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Aw, c’mon, back me up here, Lyds.” He got to his feet again with a sigh. “Fine, well I can dig you up again and think of worse things to do with you, now…” he leaned close and hissed menacingly into the foliage “ _ Grow better! _ ” He stood straight again, tossed the trowel in the air and caught it again, slid it back in his back pocket and sauntered out, whistling for Lydia and Bob to follow him.

* * *

He ambled back toward the richer area where investment bankers and billionaires had stupidly expensive residences they mostly didn’t even bother living in, much like the place where he’d rescued Lydia from in the first place. He espied one he knew belonged to a particularly unpleasant CEO, and miracled the gate open while the CCTV glitched out at his command. 

“C’mon Lydia, got a little job for you here, just a quick mowing job.” He knelt down in front of her and pulled out a piece of paper to show her. “I want you to draw this on his lawn,” the demon said with an evil grin. Lydia considered the drawing for a moment before backing up a little and spinning around to turn her back on Crowley in a huff. 

“What? You don’t want to draw naughty things? Oh you really are Aziraphale’s little girl aren’t you?” He rolled his eyes and pulled a sharpie from his pocket then wrote something on the other side of the sheet of paper, then walked around to the front of Lydia again and showed her the message. “How about this instead?”

She growled her motors and spun around again to ignore him. Crowley sighed. “ _ Fine _ , no naughty words either. Is there  _ anything  _ you’ll deign to do here? He’s not a nice person, trust me on this, Lydia.” She turned a little to observe him thoughtfully for a moment, then trundled off to the middle of the lawn and set about mowing in careful patterns. Crowley lounged on the garden wall and watched with interest. 

After a while, Lydia trundled back to Crowley and beeped at the gate to be let out again. He sauntered over to the middle of the lawn to see what she’d done. Mown into the longer grass was the outline of a butterfly. Crowley sighed. So much for demonic activity. He guessed it was still spoiling the lawn a little, but not exactly what he had in mind. Oh well. He ambled back to the waiting appliances and led them home again. “Nice try, Lydia, you’re too polite for your own good though. You need to be Just Enough Of A Bastard like Aziraphale though. I know you can do it, you’ve just gotta try.” 

Lydia spun her motors up a little and flicked some wet grass at Crowley’s shoe. “Oi! Temper, miss!” Crowley rubbed his shoe clean on the back of his calf with a disgruntled look at the mower. Bob was revving his motor in a rhythmic pattern that Crowley understood to be the little vac’s equivalent of laughter, and he shot it a dark look. “And you can watch it, too, you little demon. I can hide  _ both  _ of your charging ports if I want.” 

They got back to the apartment block and Crowley stopped Lydia before she charged through the door. “Hey, are you forgetting something you angelic little monster?” He stood waiting as she trundled obediently back to him. “That’s better, now hold still…” He lifted her housing and rolled her gently onto her side, then miracled a stiff long handled brush up and set about brushing the loose grass from her underside before she could go indoors again. She rumbled happily as her middle was tickled. Crowley set her back on her wheels again with a pat, then Bob nudged his toes and beeped. 

“You’re fine Bob, you don’t need the brush, you just clean things.” Bob nudged his toe again insistently and gave a sad beep. Crowley relented and turned the little vac over, rubbed the brush over his underside for a moment or two, then put him back on his wheels again with a fond smile. “All clean, off you go, and hold the lift for me.” He ambled after the two happy little electronic devices and punched the button in the lift for the penthouse.

* * *

Once back in the flat, he found Aziraphale relaxing on the sofa reading the paper. Crowley knelt down next to the sofa and wrapped his long arms around the angel and nuzzled in to give him a snuggle, squeezed him, gave him a quick kiss, then stood up and sauntered through to the plant room. He stopped in the middle and nudged the empty pot with his toe, then looked around the room threateningly. 

“I hope you’ve all had time to think about your little friend, because you’ve all disappointed me. You ALL need to _ GROW BETTER! _ ” Crowley suddenly remembered himself and turned to a small Cyclamen that Aziraphale had bought him the previous week. “Not you, sweetie, you’re doing great.” He couldn’t bring himself to threaten the Aziraplant, after all. He picked up the empty pot and stashed it away. 

He ambled back to the lounge to find that Aziraphale had moved to the utility and was unloading the tumble drier. Crowley watched him while lounging against the doorframe, particularly enamoured with watching the angel’s behind every time he leant over to get more clothing from the drier. “I love you” he murmured idly. Aziraphale straightened up and shoved the washing basket of dry laundry into the demon’s hands. 

“Stop saying I love you to get out of chores, fold these and put them away, darling.” Crowley smirked and snapped his fingers. The washing miracled itself onto coathangers and drawers in an instant. He handed the empty basket back to his angel, then leaned forward over it to give him a kiss. 

“That,” said Aziraphale sharply. “Was cheating.” Crowley gave a one shouldered shrug. 

“Demon.” He reminded him smugly. “Anyhow, I’m doing casserole for dinner, you want mash or roasties with it? Aziraphale couldn’t keep his stern face long with his beautiful demon. 

“Mash please, darling. Shall I help peeling the potatoes or anything?” Crowley raised both hands as if warding him off. 

“Nooooo, nonononono, no. Nope. No peeling for you. You’re appealing enough already anyway.” he winked and dodged out of the utility door giggling just as a rolled up sock was hurled at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter fur will fly when the Crowley household gets a visitor for the day. Bob is unamused. He is even less amused when he vacuums up something he really shouldn't have, and gets ALL the regrets.


	14. Cats and Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob makes a new acquaintance after a rocky start, vacuums up something he shouldn't and has ALL THE REGRETS. (But no, it's not what you think it's going to be). Revenge is a dish best served hot, under the circumstances. Lydia lends a hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this update being a few hours later than usual. I'm back to TUESDAY ONLY updates for Bob during May as I'm doing daily *and* weekly challenges for the Good Omens Celebration, which is enough posting for me. Besides, I made sure to give Bob at least one cameo in the #COG2020 prompt shorts so far, and there may be more ;)

“Oh come on Bob, you  _ like  _ Mrs. Stanley, her hands are shaky and she drops crumbs everywhere for you. Don’t give me that attitude, it’s only for the day, you’ll be fine.” Bob beeped in a disgruntled manner and turned his back on Crowley in a huff. 

“Don’t be so ungrateful, she  _ did  _ rescue you, y’know. We owe her a favour anyway.” Bob spun his motors up in reverse and flicked a small lego brick at Crowley’s toes, then scooted under the sofa to hide. The demon inspected the errant building block in puzzlement. “Where do you even  _ get  _ these things…?” he muttered. With a sigh, he got down on hands and knees and called under the sofa. “Well I’m still doing it anyway, whether you like it or not, you’ll just have to deal with it, kid. Play nice or I’ll hide your charging port.”

Crowley gave up and left the flat. A few minutes later he re-appeared carrying a cat carrier and set it down in the middle of the lounge. “Hellspawn? Come and say hello to Albert. He’s nice. You met him before, remember? When you got lost?” Crowley squatted down next to the cage where a black fluffy cat peered out suspiciously at its surroundings. 

Bob inched forward from under the sofa, until his spinning whiskers brushed the edge of the cage, then paused and growled his motors. Crowley glowered at him. “DUDE! No! We talked about this…” Albert the cat hissed then emitted a low yowl at the vacuum, fluffing up and arching his back. Bob beeped sullenly and slunk back under the sofa again, peering out with LEDs glowing a dull red. Crowley sighed and picked up the cage, carrying it through to the bedroom and shutting the door behind him. 

He set the cage on the bed and opened the door. “C’mon Albert, you can chill out in here for a bit, then I’ll open the door later and you can come out when you’re ready and try meeting Bob again. If you get scared you can run back in here and I’ll tell him he’s not allowed in, ok?” 

Yellow slitted eyes met yellow slitted eyes and Albert blinked slowly, flicking an ear then sauntering out onto the bed. He sniffed cautiously and looked around. Crowley let him sniff his fingers, then stroked along his soft fur. Albert arched up into the contact with a contented “Mrrrew.” Crowley sighed and sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, then patted his lap. Albert considered him for a moment, then ambled over and climbed aboard, padding the demon’s thighs for a minute before settling down and commencing to purr so loudly it could be heard three rooms away. 

Crowley relaxed back and stroked the cat, then snapped his phone into his other hand and scrolled through it while he chilled out with the cat. Albert quieted down and eventually fell asleep. After a little while Crowley heard a steady *bump… bump* at the bedroom door. 

“Hellspawn? Is that you?” There was a quiet beep. “Are you ready to apologise?” A pause, and then another, contrite beep. “Ok, but be nice ok?” Crowley snapped his fingers at the door and it swung open slowly. Bob hovered in the doorway looking nervous. “You stay right there, kid. Wait a minute…”

Crowley stroked Albert again. “Hey, Bert, wanna wake up? Bob’s come to apologise.” The cat curled tighter and tucked a paw over his eyes instead. Crowley shrugged at Bob. “You’ll have to wait till later, Albert’s still sleepy, buddy. I’ll bring him out when he’s awake ok?” 

Bob beeped sadly and trundled away again. Crowley shifted uncomfortably. A friendly set of claws sunk a millimetre into his thighs and he tensed, stock still. The claws retracted again. Crowley pondered for a moment. After a thought, he gently levitated the cat, slid out from underneath it, tugged a pillow into the area where his lap had been, miracled it to just the right warmth, then lowered the cat down again, still asleep, and stepped back with a sigh of relief. 

He thought for a moment then snapped up a litter tray and placed it by the bedroom door, then a water bowl on the other side so Albert would see them when he woke up, then he left the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind him to go and make some coffee. Since Bob’s altercation with the keurig, Crowley had switched back to the Gaggia, which took a bit longer but was arguably better. It was also fairly Bob-proof. He still made sure never to appear too grateful to it in the vacuum’s presence though, just in case.

* * *

Bob, meanwhile, was vacuuming in the plant room, as he trundled around he occasionally nudged the pots, and as he did, something small and red fell on the floor. He was supposed to report fallen leaves to Crowley but this didn’t look like a leaf. He sucked it up and carried on. 

A moment later there was a high pitched wailing screech of a beep as Bob hurtled into the lounge and then into the kitchen area where Crowley stood stirring his coffee. The little vac screamed in frantic circles around the demon’s feet as Crowley stared down at him in dumbfounded surprise. He’d never seen Bob move that fast before, or make such a strident noise. He hunkered down, anxious, and held his hands out, trying to catch the little appliance. 

“Hey! Hey, what’s wrong little guy? What’s up? Did something happen? Hey…” Bob charged into his arms still screeching, LEDs flashing in a chaotic jumble of blue and red. Crowley had never seen his demonic minion so distraught. He picked him up and inspected him for damage but couldn’t see anything obvious, but Bob was still wailing loudly. He set the little vac back down on the floor again in confusion, and he immediately bumped into Crowley’s toe twice, then hurtled off back toward the plant room. Crowley followed him, worried. 

When he got there, he found Bob headbutting a plant pot accusingly. Crowley’s brow wrinkled for a moment, it was a chilli plant, the peppers were growing quite nicely on it, tiny red spicy commas that he was looking forward to cooking with soon. Bob headbutted the pot again and one fell off and bounced off his lid. Bob took one look at the chilli on the floor in front of him and reversed up, screeching, then zoomed out to hide under the desk in the study. Realisation dawned on Crowley. 

“Bob, did you eat a chili? Oh dude…” Crowley glared at the chili plant threateningly, then chased after the vacuum. He reached under the table, calling out soothingly. “It’s ok, kiddo, come out here, I’ve got you, let’s see you, come on…” Bob inched forward, beeping sadly. Crowley grabbed him gently and drew him the rest of the way out then cradled him in his lap on the floor for a moment, wondering what to do. Bob wasn’t a wet & dry vac so he couldn’t just pour out some milk for him to suck up, could he? He wracked his brain for a solution while Bob beeped sadly in his lap. 

“Hang on, dunno if this might work…” he carried the unhappy little appliance back through to the kitchen again and rummaged around in the cupboards until he pulled out a carton of powdered milk. He upended the canister on the floor. “Try that, Bob, it might take the burn away.” Bob regarded the pile cautiously then inched forward and sucked up a little of it then paused thoughtfully. His lights flickered back to being more blue than red, and he inched forward a bit more to carry on cleaning up the pile. 

Once it was all gone he trundled around thoughtfully, his LEDs now a more contented blue, still letting out the occasional pained beep as if whimpering, but nowhere near as bad as he had been. He nudged Crowley’s toes gratefully. Crowley sat down on the floor again and patted him fondly. “It’s ok little buddy. Shall we think up a suitable punishment for that rotten old chilli plant?” Bob beeped and flashed red briefly. “Ok, whaddya think, chainsaw or flamethrower?”

Bob beeped loudly, Crowley grinned. “Yeah, flamethrower sounds appropriate to me too. Revenge is a dish best served hot. I’m still going to harvest the rest of the chillis first though, but after that I’ll go back to buying them again.”

* * *

Once Bob had calmed down, Crowely popped him back on the floor again and went back to finish his coffee. It hadn’t dared cool down. He ambled through to the bedroom to check on Albert. Cracking the door open he was greeted by a sleepy “Mrrrrew?” from the bed as the black cat stretched and yawned, then stalked over to the demon to rub up against his legs affectionately. “At least you’ve got black fur anyway” Crowley muttered, seeing the fluff sticking to his jeans. He left the door open and wandered back to the lounge to watch some tv, leaving Albert to decide whether wanted to explore the rest of the apartment or not on his own. 

After a while, Crowley’s peripheral vision picked up a fluffy dark shape sauntering through to the lounge, sniffing carefully as it went. “Up here, Albert” Crowley called out, patting the sofa. The cat gazed at him briefly, flicked an ear, then continued to sniff around the lounge. After a moment, he came across Bob dozing on his charging port, and sniffed him cautiously. 

A single blue LED flickered on watchfully as the cat sniffed at the curious little appliance. Perhaps thinking that the cat was getting a little too familiar, Bob spun up his whisker brushes, which caught on Albert’s whiskers and made the cat leap impressively 3 feet into the air and 2 feet backwards in surprise. Crowley cackled and snorted coffee out of his nose. The cat glared at him and sat down to lick itself furiously in embarrassment. 

Bob trundled forward slowly and circled the cat, who sat watchfully, tail tip twitching. He reached out with a tentative paw and tapped gently on Bob’s lid. Bob paused and allowed the contact. Crowley smiled benevolently. “Good boys,” he murmured encouragingly at the pair of them.

* * *

A while later, Aziraphale came home from the bookshop. As he hung his jacket up in the hall, he heard Bob whirring up to him and turned around. He looked down to see a large fluffy black cat riding on top of the little vacuum. Occasionally it would tap a paw down in front of one of Bob’s whisker brushes to direct him to turn one way or the other. 

He watched the little duo trundle past, by now past being too surprised at anything the little appliance got up to. He merely sighed and wandered through to the lounge where Crowley sat on the floor next to the incinerated remains of a chilli plant. He was picking off burnt leaves and tossing them to the floor for Lydia to shred. He looked up with a smile when he saw his angel come in. “Oh, hi gorgeous.”

Aziraphale started at the burned plant and the contented lawn mower destroying its remains, opened his mouth to ask a question, thought the better of it, shut his mouth again, and went to brew a cup of tea instead. After a few minutes he sat down on the sofa near Crowley. “All I’m going to ask is, did you take Bob’s flamethrower off him again afterwards?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, he’s fitted with a CATalytic converter now instead.” Aziraphale gave him a long, cool look over the rim of his teacup and raised one eyebrow. Behind him Bob and Albert trundled back past. Lydia mulched another burnt leaf. 

“Well…” Crowley continued, “just make sure you never drop any chillis on the floor, or mustard powder, or wasabi. And if you do, there’s a few tins of powdered milk in the cupboard for emergencies.” There was the sound of the doorbell chiming and Crowley stood up, dusting his knees off. “That’ll be Mrs. Stanley back again to pick up Albert.” He whistled and Bob reappeared from the study, cat still on board. 

Crowley lifted the cat off the little vacuum, gazed into it’s slitted yellow eyes for a second then remembered something and snapped a pair of shades in front of his own just before he opened the door. “Hi again, yeah, he’s been great, no trouble. Lemme just go get his cage for you, back in a tic, you hold him, here…” Crowley stalked through to the bedroom and returned with the cat carrier. Bob fussed around his feet anxiously. Albert wriggled in his owner’s arms, wanting to get down again. 

“Uh, I think you cat wants to say goodbye to my vacuum cleaner…” Crowley mumbled. Bless her, Mrs Stanley didn’t seem to be fazed by eccentricity and placed the cat back on the floor for a moment, where he scent marked against Bob’s lid for a minute, and then climbed into the empty cat carrier and curled up contentedly. Crowley shut the door then passed the cage back to the old lady and waved her off again. 

After taking a seat on the sofa next to Aziraphale so he could snuggle up with his angel again, Crowley noticed Bob nudging his toes. “Damn, nearly forgot, sorry buddy…” He picked up the little vac and turned him over, then miracled up a little screwdriver and some scissors, then began to clean out the accumulated cat fur from Bob’s brushes for him. Once he’d finished, he placed the Roomba back on the floor again with a friendly pat. “All done, see, it wasn’t that bad was it?” Bob scooted back to his charging port with a happy beep as angel and demon cuddled up to watch some more Bake Off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Bob update is next TUESDAY, but check the Good Omens Celebration challenge fic for new chapters that may include more Bob cameos.


	15. BONUS #GOC2020 prompt 8 "Family" Doomba short.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Good Omens Celebration challenge 2020, the prompt "Family" I decided to use my favourite little ineffable family of Crowley, his "son" Bob, Aziraphale and Lydia in a little vignette. 
> 
> Link to the chapter in the challenge fic: [click here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23964013/chapters/57797491)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unexpected Bonus Bob for you. I figured it belongs here as well as in the #GOC2020 fic. Just a short sweet bit of fluff.

Crowley rolled over in his sleep and reached over to the other side of the bed, encountering nothing but an expanse of empty sheets. It wasn’t unusual however. Aziraphale didn’t always choose to sleep, so sometimes they’d cuddle until at least Crowley did, then once he was asleep, the angel would get up and go to read or do other things. 

Crowley groped at the bedside table for a bottle of water and found it empty, so with a sigh, decided to get up and refill it in the kitchen. He padded softly down the hall, and heard Aziraphale’s soothing voice from the lounge. He stilled, then, intrigued, crept closer even more quietly, and paused in the doorway, water forgotten. 

Aziraphale was curled up on the sofa with a book in his hands. It wasn’t his usual reading matter, but a brightly coloured children’s book. He could just make out the cover: ‘The impatient little vacuum’ by Yvonne Jones. Bob and Lydia were both sitting on the floor in front of the sofa paying rapt attention to the angel as he read aloud to them, occasionally showing them the pictures in the book. 

He had two plates next to him - one covered in pastry crumbs, the other in fallen leaves. Every now and then he’d sprinkle a few crumbs in front of Bob and a couple of leaves in front of Lydia for them to consume. Of course Lydia only enjoyed chopping vegetation, she didn’t consume it, although it did make her happy. So after she’d buzzed them into mulch, she’d do a little twirl away, Bob would make a quick semicircle over where she’d just been and vacuum up the remains, then she’d twirl back to her original position again. It was like a little dance, like two binary stars spinning around each other but occasionally crossing orbits. Crowley smiled fondly at the thought. 

Aziraphale finished the book then set it aside and reached for another two. He placed one on each knee and talked to the appliances in a low voice. Both of them nudged his right foot so he patted Lydia, then set the book on his left knee aside and opened the one on his right. Crowley thought his heart was about to burst. 

Aziraphale glanced up and spied Crowley in the doorway with a gentle smile, the demon sauntered into the lounge and curled up next to his angel on the sofa, head on his lap with a happy sigh. Aziraphale bent to give him a kiss, then sat up again and began to stroke his hand through Crowely’s short red hair and continued reading in a soothing voice. Crowley drifted to sleep again in his lap while the little Roomba and robo mower sat and listened appreciatively. 

Family is what you make it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bob will be back on Tuesday as normal with a full chapter.


	16. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley decides to practise some music. Bob does not approve. Bob is a little shit. Crowley gets resourceful.

Crowley opened the case reverently and smiled fondly down at the violin inside, with it’s glossy red-tinged lacquer. The rear was a beautiful dappled maple. He’d bought it new in 1693 and looked after it. Over the millennia he’d become proficient at several musical instruments as a way to keep himself entertained. The Violin was worth a few million quid at least, not that he’d ever consider selling it anyway. It was a genuine Stradivarius, and had been made especially for Crowley.

Of course there was also a fine tradition of demons challenging mortals to demonstrations of skill, including with musical instruments, in return for their soul. Crowley generally let them win, although it annoyed him he was oft referred to as the devil in such tales after the fact, rather than a demon. It was like your boss getting credit for your work. 

He hadn’t played in a while and fancied practising to entertain his angel later. He set down a music stand and leafed through his library of sheet music to find something suitable. He then lifted the violin out of its case with care and made a few minor adjustments. He laid it back down and took up the bow and rosin, rubbing it carefully over the horsehair. 

Finally he lifted the instrument, tucked it under his chin, and laid the bow over the strings. He played a few notes, wrinkled his brow in concentration, adjusted the tuning slightly, then continued with a few scales. Behind him, one of Bob’s LED lights lit up sleepily as he sat on his charging port, akin to opening one eye in interest. 

Crowley paused, rolled his shoulders, cricked his neck and wriggled his fingers a little, and then launched into the piece properly. He soon lost himself in the music with a satisfied little smile. He didn’t notice Bob cautiously slinking off his port and sneaking up behind him. 

Bob was not enjoying the music. 

He watched Crowley play for a few minutes, wondering what he could do about it. If it had been music on the hi fi system, Bob could have turned it off remotely by himself much as he did with the TV, but no matter what frequency he threw at the noise, it carried on unabated. Crowley quickly reached down and flipped a page of the sheet music then carried on. Bob twirled in front of him, Crowley didn’t notice. 

Next Bob crept up and nudged Crowley’s foot. The demon merely nudged him away with a toe and a frown. Bob beeped indignantly. Crowley looked pointedly over at his charging station. Bob failed to take the hint. He nudged Crowley’s foot again and beeped louder. Crowley sighed and set his violin aside, staring down at his little minion in irritation.  _ “What?” _

Bob beeped plaintively. 

“Tough. My house, my music. If you don’t like it you can go and vacuum the bedroom or something.”

Bob beeped again. 

“Don’t you argue with me, kid.” Crowley growled. Bob wriggled and made his googly eyes roll sarcastically. Crowley glowered. “That’s it. Time out for you.” He bent down, picked the little vac up and carried him to the bedroom, where he placed him on the floor. “Clean up in here and behave yourself.”

He strode back through to the lounge again, picked up the bow and violin, and began playing again. Not quite satisfied with the flow, he flipped the pages back and began again from the beginning. A couple of minutes he heard a low two tone beep from behind him.    
  
Beeeeep… beep…   
  
A pause.   
  
Beeeep… beep…   
  
It inched closer.   
  
Beeeep… beep…

He tried to concentrate on the music. 

Beeeep beep, beeep beep, beeep beep…

  
The music stand wobbled, then began scooting across the floor through to the study. Crowley did a double take and saw Bob underneath the music stand, carrying it away on top of his lid. He rolled his eyes at the roomba. 

"FINE, I DON'T NEED THE SHEET MUSIC ANYWAY!" He paused for a second.    
  
“Wait, was that the bloody  _ Jaws  _ music you were beeping?” He shook his head in disbelief. After a while he had a brainwave. He went and fetched a thick book, then slunk toward the study, hunting out Bob. He found him tucked under the throne, and dragged him out backwards, beeping indignantly. 

Crowley placed the book flat on the floor, then lifted Bob and placed him on top of it, so the book lifted him off the floor an inch, with his little wheels spinning uselessly either side of it. He growled his motor in frustration at the indignity. 

“Gotcha  _ now _ , you little bugger!” Crowley reached into his desk drawer for some sellotape and scissors, then snapped up some grey card and began cutting while Bob sat immobile, straddled on the book. He held up what he’d made in front of the roomba. “Right. You’re in time out for twenty minutes while I practise, then you’re wearing this for the rest of the day.” Bob flashed his red LEDs and beeped, disgruntled. Crowley returned to his practise.

* * *

Aziraphale got back from the bookshop later. Crowley met him with a hug and a kiss as he came through the door, then went to make a cup of tea. Aziraphale went toward the lounge to relax on the sofa, until something caught his attention in his peripheral vision. He turned to look closer. 

“Crowley, darling?”

“Yup?”

“Why does Bob have a shark fin on his back?”

“He likes Jaws apparently. He also doesn’t appreciate classical music properly, so his punishment for being a little bastard today is that he gets a shark fin which stops him from being able to hide underneath the sofa and low furniture for a few hours.”

“Oh.”

Bob shot across the floor and ran over Crowley’s toes. 

“Oi! Quit that you little bastard!” Crowley growled and made to lunge at the little vac again. Bob beeped in alarm and shot behind the angel, hiding behind his ankles. Crowley glared at him. “Don’t think you can just hide behind Aziraphale when you’ve been bad you little bugger.”

Aziraphale bent down and lifted the roomba up to eye level. “Now see here, Robert J. Crowley, you behave when your father tells you to, do you hear me?” His face serious. Bob beeped sorrowfully. Aziraphale nodded in approval and set him back down on the floor again. “Now go and sit on your charging port and think about what you’ve done.” The vac trundled slowly across the room and parked on his charger with a quiet beep. 

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley. “I was reading that both parents must be consistent in applying rules and boundaries for effective communication.” The demon grinned and gave him a quick kiss.

“Thanks, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next Tuesday: BEES? BEES!


	17. BONUS #GOC2020 prompt 16 "Far Future" Doomba short.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale take Bob and Lydia on a space trip, they meet the infamous Stabby The Space Roomba. Another bonus Roomba Of Doom chapter in the Good Omens Celebration Challenge fic because, hey: ROBOTS. This is NOT set immediately after the last chapter, but is a glimpse into the far future when space travel is commonplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing Bob, I had never heard of Stabby The Space Roomba until someone mentioned it to me in the comments. I did play with the HC that Stabby WAS Bob in the far future, but instead we have this. They both exist. Bob has also previously played around with a kinfe taped to his lid, mostly when playing real-life fruit ninja with Crowley.
> 
> Stabby apparently makes it all the way to rear-admiral, but I decided that's still in the future yet as well, so he's still working his way up the ranks when Bob meets him.

“Come along, Lydia, don’t dawdle, dear girl.” Aziraphale had paused to watch the robo mower as she left off her investigation of a small, glassed-off square foot of lawn on display next to the stark white corridor, and hurried to catch up. Bob beeped encouragingly at her as he trundled along at Crowely’s heels. 

They joined a queue for the next shuttle. An off duty pilot with brunette hair tied up neatly in a bun gave the group a strange look. “What adorably antique robots you two have! I’m amazed they’re still going. I’m sure I saw one like the little round one in a museum once. Isn’t it a little valuable to be bringing out on a holiday?”

Crowley gave her a dark look and walked on without degining to answer. Aziraphale gave her a discreet blessing with a polite smile as he went by. They took a seat in the boarding lounge, looking out at the sleek space shuttle waiting there. Bob trundled around happily vacuuming up dust, until he came face to face with a more modern, hovering hoover, which tutted at him in irritation. 

_“Please remove yourself back to your owner, appliance. Maintenance is in progress in this area.”_

Bob beeped indignantly at it. “Robert J. Crowley, _really!_ Language!” Aziraphale scolded him with a sharp look. The hover hoover turned to the angel in puzzlement.

_“But the appliance did not speak, sir.”_

Bob scooted back to hide behind Crowely’s ankles and blew a raspberry at the hover hoover. Aziraphale was indignant. “Bob doesn’t need a voice chip to make his meaning understood, do you, Bob?” 

Bob beeped in assent. 

“Do you want a voice chip, Bob?”

Bob blew another raspberry and flashed his red LEDs. 

“See? Now kindly mind your own business.”

The hover hoover apologised and hummed away to carry on it’s cleaning duties. 

A younger gent in a military uniform sitting nearby strained to get a better look at Bob. “Hey, it is! I thought it was!” He nudged his likewise uniformed companion excitedly. “Hey, Rae, check it out, it’s just like the Sergeant! I didn’t think there were any left!”

Crowley looked up sharply. “Sergeant?” 

“Yeah, Sergeant Stabby. He’s been on our ship for decades now. He’s had a few field promotions. I’m Private Ash Sharma, this is Private Rae Eustace. We were on shore leave on Earth for a few weeks. Where did you get your roomba?”

Crowley tried not to grin and shrugged. “He just followed me home from work one day.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “He kidnapped him.”

Bob beeped and huddled up to Crowley’s ankles. Crowley laughed. “He’s right, Azirpahale, it’s not kidnapping when they ask to come with you.”

“He looks pretty old.”

“He is.” Crowley remarked. “I have a good plastic surgeon.”

Private Sharma looked surprised. “Look, when’s your flight? Our ship is just refuelling and will be waiting a while, you should bring yours to come and meet the Sergeant. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to meet you folks too.”

Aziraphale looked at his watch. “Not for another two hours yet at least. Are you saying that your _Sergeant_ is like Bob?”

Private Eustace nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m surprised you’ve never heard of him. Come on, I’ll ask the duty Sergeant if we can bring you on board as guests, at least to the visitor’s lounge.” Crowley met his husband’s eye with a little shrug, which was returned. Crowley stood and shook Eustace’s hand. “Anthony J. Crowley, this is my Husband, Aziraphale Fell.” The four of them shook hands, then followed the two millitary personnel to their dock. 

There was a bit of radio back-and-forth at the gate between Eustace and her superior as Sharma chatted with Crowley. “So, where are you off to today?” 

“Mars for a holiday. Haven’t been there for…” Crowley hesitated. Actually, since he’d been part of the team building it, when he’d been pulled off star making duty for a bit of planetary infilling. “... Oh, yonks. It’ll be interesting to see how it’s changed.” 

After a few minutes they were issued guest passes and invited on board to a spacious visitor’s lounge and offered cups of coffee. A few minutes later there was a yelp from the doorway and a crewmember leapt into the air then grabbed at her ankle. Sharma giggled. “She’s new on board, she’ll learn. Here comes the Sergeant.”

Crowley looked down and saw a similarly antique Roomba to Bob, trundling along the floor with a kitchen knife strapped to his lid. He had military insignia painted on his lid like epaulettes. Bob beeped in excitement and charged forward to greet the newcomer. Sergeant Stabby stopped in surprise, then inched forwards cautiously, and booped Bob on his bumper bar in greeting. Bob beeped happily, then spun around to Crowley with a series of sad beeps. 

“Sorry, buddy, I didn’t bring your fruit ninja knives with us, I didn’t think bringing an armed robot on an intergalactic flight would be a good idea.” 

Bob then beeped at Lydia and encouraged her to come forwards. She crept closer and politely nudged Sergeant Stabby, then dipped her mowing height briefly in a curtsey. The trio of appliances began beeping animatedly at each other, occasionally flashing LED lights, spinning around, revving motors in chuckles and apparently having a good time. 

Azirapahle took in the sight with interest. “So how did your roomba come to be on board, how did he come to have a knife, and how on earth did he come to be promoted to Sergeant?”

Sharma grinned. “It was decades ago, way before my time. Someone brought him on board from home when they got a new one, thought he could just sweep the corridors, then the crew got drunk one night and someone thought it’d be funny to strap a knife onto his lid and set him up against the cleaning droids. He put one out of action then anyone who came near him to try to take the knife off got jabbed, so they just decided to leave it on there.”

“Wasn’t that rather dangerous?” Aziraphale was aghast, remembering Bob’s teenaged shenanigans, not that the demonic appliance had improved overmuch in manners over the years, and retained a streak of Crowley-ish mischeviousness, which the angel wouldn’t change for the world. 

“Eh,” Eustace chuckled. “It teaches the new recruits to be quick on their feet and have situational awareness. Then one day he stabbed a douchebag general in the ankle, and the captain gave Stabby a field promotion after the general disembarked. He’s been pretty good in a few skirmishes, he generally loiters around the airlocks if we ever get into trouble and hacks at invading ankles. It’s pretty hard to mount an attack when you’re limping around on stumps. So he got a few more field promotions. Then someone decided to paint his insignia on his lid.”

Sgt. Stabby nudged Sharma’s ankle with his non-stabby side to get his attention then did a series of beeps, turned and trundled off. Bob and Lydia followed him. “He’s just going to give your two a tour apparently.” Sharma translated, although Crowley, after all these years interacting with Bob, had picked it up perfectly too. 

“So can all your crewmembers understand him? Even without a voice chip?” Aziraphale was surprised. 

“Pretty much,” Eustace volunteered. “You spend enough time around him you pick up a thing or two, same with yours by the looks of it?” Crowley nodded. Something was nagging at his mind though. 

“Is yours, um… sentient?”

Sharma pulled a complicated face and waggled his hand to and fro vaguely. “Eeeeuuuhhhh... “ he shrugged. “Honestly? We’re not sure. He doesn’t have complex AI as far as we know. He just gradually got more and more understandable. We have no idea why. Yours?”

Crowley shrugged back. “It’s kinda complicated.” He took a seat next to his husband to sip some more coffee and chat with Sharma, Eustace and some of their colleagues, until Sgt. Stabby returned a little while later, leading Bob and Lydia as he finished their tour of the ship. Aziraphale checked his watch. 

“We should probably be getting back to our gate now, but thank you ever so much for your hospitality, and all the best on your next tour of duty.” He smiled warmly and shook hands, then saluted at Sgt. Stabby, as a retired angelic soldier he felt he should, and received a formal beep and sway of the knife in return, like a salute.

The unconventional little family of Angel, Demon, Roomba and robo mower sauntered back to the shuttle gate. Aziraphale took a seat on a sofa and extracted a book from his bag, garnering curious looks from the e-book owning humans around him who weren’t familiar with such things on a daily basis. Crowley lounged back and rested his head on the angel’s lap for a doze while they waited. Bob continued to vacuum and to terrorise the occasional modern service droid who came too close, while Lydia soaked up some sunshine on her solar panels near a floor to ceiling window. 


	18. BEES? BEES!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone sent me a misprinted robo vac user manual. It had to be done. Bob makes a discovery about himself. It isn't true, but hey, Bob's a demon, he can MAKE it true!

Crowley sauntered along the street for a while before realising that something was missing. He stopped and realised what it was, he couldn’t hear Bob trundling behind him. He spun around to look for his errant offspring, spotting him several yards back, doing tight little circles on the pavement. He ambled back to see what the problem was. 

Bob appeared to have one wheel stuck, it wouldn’t rotate so he ended up twirling in a tiny circle around the immobilised wheel, whining in frustration. Crowley picked him up and turned him over to inspect the problem. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but some disgusting foodstuff was jammed up on Bob’s left wheel. He sighed and tucked Bob under his arm to carry him back to the flat. 

Boob beeped at the indignity and twirled one wheel pitifully. Once home, Crowley set him upside down on the kitchen counter and examined him more carefully. Whatever it was, it was sticky and sweet and well and truly jammed into Bob’s wheel and axle, smeared up into his inner workings a little. This might need careful extraction and cleaning. Crowley snapped up a copy of Bob’s user manual to check specifications and disassembly points before proceeding, carefully, to strip his housing, remove his wheel, soak it in the sink with some cleaning product, and then to scrape and wipe down his hub assembly and axle. 

He then cleaned off the splatters on Bob’s housing, dried everything, applied a refreshing squirt of WD40 (although not too much, Bob had been known to get tipsy on it sometimes, or behave like he was on catnip). Crowley then dried the components and began reassembling Bob again. 

Finally, he set the little vacuum back on the floor and sat down with him, he reached up to grab the manual off the counter and double checked everything was in place properly, then nudged Bob encouragingly. “Go on, you’re free again, give it a try…”

Bob hesitated, feeling dizzy from the WD40 and stumbled forwards a bit, before wheeling experimentally in a wobbly figure eight. He warbled a drunken discord of a beep then bumped into the wall, did what could only be described as an electronic hiccup, then charged off, weaving all over the place, to find Lydia. Crowley ambled after him to see what he was up to. 

Bob began headbutting Lydia on her charging port excitedly. Clearly sleepy, she lit up one LED and appeared to glare at him. She let out a slightly deeper beep then raised her mowing height to its maximum, shifted an inch to the left then lowered herself down again so a corner of her housing pinned Bob to the floor, immobilising him and stopping his manic behaviour, then she appeared to fall asleep again, in the manner of one who has her arm draped across her excitable boyfriend to snuggle him into the bed. Bob beeped a bit more then fell silent and accepted the cuddle. 

Crowley smiled at the pair of them and wandered off to watch TV for a while.

* * *

After an hour or two, Lydia woke up and released Bob, who trundled away to explore a bit. He found his user manual still on the kitchen floor where Crowley had forgotten it and began to read with interest. He flipped a page with his whisker brush and carried on reading, until something made him do a double take. 

User manuals translated from a different language are noted for typos, unfortunately Bob was not familiar with this concept, so took whatever he read as gospel. He read the line. He then re-read the line in confusion. 

_“Robot vacuum cleaner will emit a series of bees when in trouble.”*_

Bob was puzzled. He’d never emitted insects of any variety unless you counted the three flies he’d regurgitated with the pink glitter after the glitter bomb, for Crowley to see. He shook himself vigorously. He didn’t hear any bees. He thought for a moment. He was demonic. He could do things that other vacuum cleaners couldn’t do. He could snap himself on and off the ceiling if he wanted to. 

Crowley could do all sorts of things when he snapped. Bob wondered what else he was capable of. He hummed gently to himself, then revved up his motor and twanged his clutch belt in a short sharp snap. 

He burped out a single bee. It buzzed away and bounced off the window. 

Satisfied that all was indeed well with the world, and he could indeed emit bees when required, Bob carried on reading.

* * *

When Aziraphale came home he found the bee bumping aimlessly against the window and caught it gently in a glass with some card under it. He then filled a teaspoon with sugar water, and carried bee and spoon to the balcony. He set the bee next to the teaspoon for a drink so it could rehydrate before flying away. 

Later that afternoon, they went for a walk in the park, taking Lydia so she could graze on the grass for a bit. Crowley and Aziraphale lazed out on a picnic blanket in the sun, Aziraphale reading, Crowley lying down with his head cushioned on the angel’s stomach, soaking up the rays like the serpent he was. The appliances amused themselves nearby. 

That was, until a bee came and landed on Crowley’s nose. He batted it away with irritation. It came back. Then another one joined it, landing on his glasses and ambling across them. A third bee arrived and landed on his hair, then a fourth on his cheek. Crowley shot upright, spluttering and flailing at the lazily buzzing bumble bees. “What the hell?” 

Azirapahle looked on in confusion as more and more bees arrived in a steady stream, all seeming to want to land on Crowley and vying for his attention. The angel looked up to see the direction they were coming from. There was a line of them all spouting from just over a small rise in the grass. He stood and made his way to the source. Crowley stood and followed, still flailing at the annoying creatures buzzing around him and headbutting him at regular intervals, but making no effort to sting. 

They breasted the small hill and looked down to see Bob, half stuck with a wheel in a little dip in the ground, meaning he couldn’t gain traction to escape. Lydia was off in the other direction, mowing grass, happily oblivious of her boyfriend’s plight. 

Bob’s LED’s were flashing in alarm, and every few seconds he burped out another bee, which immediately made a literal bee-line for Crowley. Angel and demon stared at each other in confusion. “Bob is manifesting insects?” Aziraphale asked in amazement. Crowley shrugged, and then made his way over to Bob. 

“Hey, cool it, Hellspawn, enough with the bees already! I’m here, what the hell are you getting up to? Here…” he lifted Bob out of the little depression in the ground and set him back on his wheels on terra firma. “... Cut it out with the bees now, ok? And can you tell this lot to leave me alone please?” Bob beeped in thanks, then beeped at the bees, which obediently ceased their attentions toward the demon, and buzzed off to investigate the flowers.

Shaking his head at the mystery, Crowley led the way back home, the appliances following behind obediently. “Why _bees_?” he muttered. Aziraphale shrugged, as mystified as Crowley. 

They got home and Aziraphale went to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea, when he spied the user manual that had been forgotten on the floor. He picked it up with interest, and found himself idly leafing through the pages as he waited for the kettle to boil. 

“Crowley…”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve found out why Bob sent a swarm to summon you when he was in trouble…” He poured the boiling water into each cup, gave them a stir and left the tea bags to stew for a few minutes while he brought the manual over to Crowley on the sofa. “Here…” 

Crowley read the page, confused. Then re-read it, still confused. Then Aziraphale pointed out a line, and the demon cracked up laughing. “Bob! You daft bugger, it’s BEEPS, you’re supposed to emit a series of _BEEPS_ when you’re in trouble, not BEES!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Taken from a real robo-vac user manual someone shared with me online:  
> 
> 
> And yeah I did have this gif in my head pretty much the whole time I was writing this:  
> 
> 
> (and this one...)  
> 


	19. Caffeine and meatballs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable "trip to Ikea" chapter is upon us. Summary:  
> 1: do NOT give your demonic appliance/child coffee.  
> 2: do not anger an angelic lawn mower.  
> 3: Also do not anger a demonic appliance’s father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this was one of my favourite chapters to write so far.

Crowley was getting stressed. Aziraphale had ordered a big load of shopping online and this time only Crowley had been home to accept the delivery. Bob had growled his motors when the doorbell rang, and zoomed to the door to intercept the interloper, but when he saw it was Deborah the Ocado delivery driver he hastily reversed and hid under the sofa, trying his best to look innocent. At least her boots weren’t muddy this week, and she escaped unscathed by shoelace nibbling roombas. 

Crowley ran his gaze over the enormous pile of groceries in frustration. Was the angel planning a damn dinner party he hadn’t told him about? What even _was_ half this stuff anyway? He sighed and tried to think how best to organise it all. Bob crept out of hiding now that the Deborah the delivery driver had left, to watch and see if any snacks were forthcoming. Aziraphale often dropped crumbs on the floor when he was in the kitchen, so he lived in hope. 

Lydia trundled over, rather slower, saw it was just the groceries, did the robotic equivalent of a bored yawn, shrugged her mowing height up and down briefly, then went to sun herself by the window in the plant room so her solar panels could soak up some power. She sometimes preferred that to her charging port. 

Crowley had an Aesthetic, which included fancy glass jars for dry goods, elaborate pouring bottles for the olive oil and balsamic vinegar and so forth, so his kitchen looked fancy and wasn’t covered in brand names. He decanted the sugar into the sugar bowl, and then wrestled with a refill of coffee. He swore as the bag ripped open, scattering coffee all over the floor. Bob surged forwards and spun around vacuuming it up in a frenzy. 

“HEY! NO! BOB, for fuck’s sake stop it you daft little bastard, you can’t suck that up!” Bob stopped and turned to face Crowley questioningly. Crowley sighed. Poor little dude didn’t understand that not everything that fell on the floor counted as rubbish to be removed. “Just…. Stop ok? Lemme clean this up.” Bob made a strange little beep, flashed his lights, buzzed loudly then twirled in a manic wailing circle before zooming off at high speed, bouncing off the wall erratically and careening into a table leg, then charged off down the hallway laughing in his own demonic way. Crowley put his hand over his eyes in resignation. “I’ve created a monster. Ugh. I’m a _demon_ , of _course_ I bloody did. What else did I expect?” 

Aziraphale got home a little while later, hung up his jacket then leapt back as Bob zoomed past at unusually high speed, wailing and beeping manically as he did, tipped over a plant stand and then snapped himself onto the ceiling and carried on careening around at high velocity. Aziraphale stared at him incredulously. 

“Crowley, what on earth is wrong with Bob?” Lydia trundled up next to him and bumped his shins affectionately, he reached down distractedly to pat her housing in greeting, while still staring at Bob doing laps of the ceiling.

“Uhm… that would be the coffee, I’m afraid.”

" _Coffee_? Crowley, why'd you let him have have coffee?"

“I _didn’t_ , it was an accident. I spilled it and the little bastard vacuumed most of it up before I could stop him. Just be grateful I didn’t drop the sugar as well, thank _someone_ he can’t suck up wet stuff or we’d be in peril if I ever spilled alcohol on the floor.”

There was a snap and Bob disappeared from the ceiling. Aziraphale looked around warily. “Where did he go?”

“Beeeep beep…”

Crowley stood and scanned the room with a sense of impending doom. 

“Beeeep beep….”

Crowley growled under his breath. “Bob…”

“Beeeep beep…”

“Fuck, he’s being Jaws again, Best get your feet off the floor, Angel.”

“Beeep beep, beeeeep beep, beeeep beep…”

Crowley leapt onto the sofa. 

“Beeep beep beeep beep beeep beep” Bob charged out from under the chair and ran over Aziraphale’s toes, making the angel yelp and jump onto the sofa with Crowley. 

“Told you.”

Aziraphale rubbed his toe and glared at the little vacuum now doing high speed laps of the lounge. Lydia trundled in and took in the scene, then lumbered over to Bob, who paused to nudge her. She rumbled at him then raised her cutting height, jolted forwards and lowered herself again, trapping a corner of Bob’s housing under her own and pinning him to the floor. 

“Thank you, Lydia dear girl. Much appreciated.” Azirapahle sat down on the sofa in a more relaxed fashion. Bob beeped indignantly for a bit before settling down into the embrace. 

“Well” Crowley said, once the terror had been mitigated. “The plan for this afternoon was to go to Ikea and find you some new bookshelves for the study, Angel. We can take him along and he can let off some steam there, it’s a big place, should tire him out a little”

Aziraphale looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure that’s a good idea in his current state, darling?” Crowley shrugged. 

“Dunno, but might be fun anyway.” He had a mischevious demonic glint in his eye that made Aziraphale remember just why he loved his demon so much, madcap ideas and all. 

“Well, you’re in charge of keeping him out of trouble then.”

* * *

Lydia rumbled after Aziraphale happily, towing a trolley for them to load things onto. She was far stronger than Bob and loved using her strength to be helpful, plus she was enjoying a change of scenery. Bob darted left and right, still on a caffeine buzz from earlier. He scooted under tables and bumped into floor lamps as Crowley tried to keep tabs on him. 

They were checking codes on an Ivar book case when a frantic beeping interrupted them. Bob was caught up on a tasselled rug and was swearing loudly. 

“Robert J. Crowley, _really_! Language!” Admonished Aziraphale. 

Bob blew his equivalent of a raspberry at him and continued tugging against the tassels caught on his roller. Crowley sighed and picked him up to disentangle him again. He turned to Aziraphale. “I meant to ask, what does the J stand for?”

“Junior.”

Crowley huffed a laugh and set Bob back on the floor again. “Makes sense I guess.”

The little vacuum skittered off toward another room display which had some high tech laminate flooring, promptly losing traction and drifting around a coffee table at high speed, squealing in part delight, part terror. His little wheels spun and he remained in place for a moment before launching off and barrelling into a pushchair holding a toddler in the aisle. 

The toddler stared at Bob. 

Bob stared at the toddler. 

The toddler started screaming.

Bob started screaming his motors.

The toddler screamed louder.

Bob followed suit. 

Crowley hurriedly picked him up and power walked away, going scarlet with embarrassment as the parent glared at him. Aziraphale gave them an apologetic look and hurried after the demon, Lydia trundling along at his heels. She gave a polite beep as she passed the humans and dipped her mowing height briefly in a curtsey as she left. 

Crowley collapsed down onto a sofa once he’d got a safe distance from the disgruntled parents and screaming child, set Bob on the floor and rubbed at the bridge of his nose under his shades. After a moment, Aziraphale sat down next to him. Lydia powered down and settled down next to them companionably. 

Aziraphale laid a soothing hand on his thigh, and Crowley sighed and leant over to give him a kiss. Bob immediatley spun up his motors in a wolf whistle, earning him a glare and a nudge from Crowley’s toes in response. 

“Stoppit, you.”

“So, darling, what do you think, “Ivar” or “Billy” book shelves? They both look sturdy.”

“They both look _hideous_ , Angel. I’d rather get some professionally made cabinetry, I’ll get a carpenter in to do some made to measure ones that’ll fit in with the decor. I’m not having bloody _pine_ in my flat.”

“You can paint it, you can even paint them grey if you like.”

“Nope.”

“Well how about a Detolf unit for my snuff box collection?”

“Eh, that I could go with. The black base one though. Suits the ambience.”

The angel was mollified, and then worried. “Where’s Bob gone?”

“Oh not _again…_ ” Crowley groaned theatrically. 

“Well you did insist on bringing him out full of coffee, darling.”

There was a panicked beeping from several aisles away. Crowley launched himself to his feet and began to run. He was soon overtaken by Lydia at top speed, charging ahead to find Bob, all LEDs flashing red.

* * *

Clive eyed up the expensive looking vacuum cleaner appraisingly. He had no idea why it’d be here except as set dressing, but it wasn’t just a deactivated prop junk like the fake flatscreen TVs and other tech that decorated the room layouts. This one worked, it was moving. It was real. 

Clive had seen how much they went for online, even second hand. He looked around furtively, stepped forward and picked it up, tucked it into a big blue ikea bag and began to slink away, when the bag started screeching in alarm. He nearly dropped it in fright, then fumbled in the bag desperately trying to find an “off” button to shut the damn thing up. Its LEDs were flashing blue and red and it’s motors whirring at high speed, with a cacophony of loud panicked beeps as well. The thief looked around him, hoping no one was nearby to see. 

Just then a low roaring rumble thundered toward him in the shape of a bright orange Husqvarna robot lawn mower, charging at him at a surprising speed which he was dimly aware was probably not factory standard. It had goolgy eyes wobbling on the front of it’s housing like the vac in his bag, and all its LEDs were a glaring angry red as it bore down on him. A tall, angry looking redhead was chasing behind, lips curled back in a sharp toothed snarl. Clive wasn’t sure which one was more terrifying right now, so he ran, clutching the bag to his chest as he went. 

Crowley grunted and redoubled his efforts. He had no idea that Lydia was capable of such speeds, but he’d also never seen her this angry before. Her trolley trailer rattled behind her unheeded as she careened around corners hot on the heels of the thief. 

Clive darted through a room setup, Lydia dodged around the other side. Crowley vaulted a sofa and hit the ground running. “You’re really going to regret that, y’know!” he yelled at the fleeing human. Just then Aziraphale darted out from between two wardrobes and held his arm out at chest height. The thief ran into it, distracted by looking behind him at his pursuers, it must have been like hitting an iron bar and he went down, winded and gasping as the Principality stared down at him impassively. 

“Wha… wh… wha… wht’ y’gnna .. do… t’me..?” Clive gasped out between ragged breaths. The angel raised an eyebrow, his mouth grim.

“Me? Oh nothing, nothing at all. I’m the _good_ one. Bob’s father and girlfriend on the other hand, well…” He stepped back just as Lydia pulled up with a screech of tyres and rolled over the thief’s arm, then lowered her cutting height and pinned it to the ground with a growl of motors. 

Crowley skidded to a halt next to them a second later, catching his breath. He grinned at Lydia, then glared down at the human with a truly demonic expression on his face. He removed his shades and treated him to the full force of his hellish aura. Clive paled visibly. 

“What the _hell_?”

“Precisely.” Crowley grinned, with no humour in his smile whatsoever. “Now Lydia here has three pivoting razor blades made of high carbon steel with a cutting width of 22 centimetres under her housing there, currently her clutch is not engaged so they’re idle. Maybe you can feel one of them just pressing against your arm there, mmm?”

Clive realised, with an icy feeling plummeting through his middle, that he absolutely could feel the cold hard edge of something near his elbow. He swallowed nervously. He nodded carefully. 

“Now Lydia is her own mower, she has free will. I could tell her to engage her clutch, I could also order her not to, but at the end of the day, the decision is up to her. She may be angelic, but have you ever _met_ an angry angel? They like smiting, lemme tell you.”

Clive whimpered as he heard Lydia’s motors rumble a little lower. “I’m sorry! Please don’t let her chop my arm off!” he yelled out hurriedly. Crowley shook his head, tutting as he did so. 

“Oh dear oh dear. It’s not me you need to be begging, it’s Lydia here, I told you already. What d’you think, Aziraphale?”

The angel stood to one side, stony faced. “Yes, it’s entirely up to you Lydia, although I don’t think the staff would enjoy cleaning up the mess if you actually did it, so _do_ try to bear that in mind, dear girl.”

Crowley gently picked up the ikea bag and fished Bob out, checking him over carefully for damage. “You ok, Hellspawn?” Bob beeped affirmitively. Crowley set him down on the floor. “Just stay close with us ok, now what d’you think we should do with him?”

Bob revved his engines and butted Clive in the head, bumping off him with an angry growl. 

“Ow!”

Lydia beeped at Bob. Bob beeped back at length. They appeared to come to a decision. Lydia grumbled and lifted her cutting height slightly, releasing Clive’s arm. He yanked it back hurriedly. Lydia reversed then approached Crowley and nudged his shins gently, then spun and pointed at the prone thief, indicating that the demon could take charge of reprisals, then backed off and parked herself neatly next to the angel. 

Crowley grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Right…” he cackled, and pinned the human with a steely gaze. Aziraphale paled. 

“Crowley… be nice!”  
  
“I am!”  
  
“You threatened to chop his arm off with a lawn mower.”

“Well yeah, but I didn’t _do_ it.”

“Just don’t do anything… well… _too_ terrible, will you darling?”

Crowley winked, then snapped his fingers. Clive disappeared. Aziraphale raised a questioning eyebrow at the demon. “Don’t worry love, nothing terrible, just embarrassments and inconveniences for quite a long time…”

* * *

Clive blinked. Something felt wrong. Gravity - that was it. He was in a bed. It wasn’t his. He was in a bed in Ikea but everything looked weird. There was a couple walking on the ceiling, then a member of staff stopped and stared at him. She looked incredulous. “Uh, excuse me sir, why are you up there?”

“What? Whaddya mean ‘up here?’ you’re up _there_!”

“Sir, you’re in the bed of an upside down room display we created on the ceiling,* although I have no idea how you managed it, but please come down or I’ll have to call security.”

Clive wriggled a bit, looked around and got his bearings. He’d seen the curious upside down room layout earlier, everything nailed and glued to the ceiling. He had no idea how he’d got there or what was holding him up, at least until he threw the duvet back and fell to the floor with an ‘oof’, leaving him lightly bruised. 

Dazed but otherwise ok, Clive staggered to the nearest bathroom first. Meanwhile, Aziraphale, Crowley and the appliances had taken a seat in the cafe to have some meatballs and a drink. Bob found a stray meatball dropped under a table by a child and started flicking it about like a football using his whiskers, until Aziraphale reached down and confiscated it. There was a disatant scream from the direction of the bathrooms. 

Aziraphale blinked, then took another mouthful. “So darling, what did you do?”

Crowley grinned. “Well now he has a mullet, and no matter what he tries to do with his hair, every morning he’s going to wake up with it being back to a mullet again. He will lose every left sock for all eternity, every flatpack he ever buys will have precisely one piece missing, and the instructions will be wrong. His shoelaces will never stay done up, his wifi password will change itself daily, and his phone charger will disappear at least once a week. He’s also on the call list for every single telemarketer place I could find.”

Aziraphale allowed a satisfied grin to spread across his features and he reached out with his toe to nudge Crowley’s leg affectionately under the table, earning another wolf whistle from Bob, which they both ignored. “What happens if the furniture he buys is one piece?”

“Then the box will just be empty.” 

Aziraphale reached across and kissed Crowley with a smile. “Darling, you are so delightfully devilish.”

“Just the way you like me.”

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Based on a real thing. In the Ikea Museum in Ålmhult in Sweden they do have an upside down bedroom layout on the ceiling. Crowley just messed with gravity to stick Clive up there until he moved the duvet.


	20. Pride (NOW ILLUSTRATED!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob tries to make another new mechanical friend by kidnapping ("Put that thing back where it came from or so help me!") Lydia does her good deed for the day, Crowley plans their Pride Parade outfits. Someone unpleasant tries to cast a shadow over the day but Crowley and the appliances come to the rescue. Aziraphale does some discreet guardian angel-ing.
> 
>   
>  **UPDATE: Elwyst has now ILLUSTRATED this chapter!**  
> 

Crowley and Aziraphale were on a picnic blanket on the grass in the park while Bob and Lydia cavorted around them. Aziraphale had taken a bottle cap from one of their drinks and was playing ‘fetch’ with Bob using it. He flicked it several feet away, Bob scurried over to fetch it, sucked it up, then scooted back, reversed his motors and spat it out to be thrown again. Crowley was dozing, basking in the sun, a snake habit he enjoyed in human form as well. 

After a while, Bob grew bored of the game and left Aziraphale to read in peace. Yet again, Crowley shifted to rest his head on the pillow of the angel’s middle, so he could have his hair stroked while Aziraphale read and he dozed in the sunshine. 

After a while there was an excited beep. Angel and demon looked up to see Bob sitting proudly before them, with a new friend. Aziraphale face palmed. Crowley cackled. “Where’d you steal _that_ from, Hellspawn?” 

Bob had met a groceries delivery bot, a land based drone with six wheels and a locked box meant to take small amounts of shopping around the city to people who had ordered online. He’d rounded it up and herded it over to meet his parents. The non-sentient delivery bot had no idea what was going on, but was currently sending a distress signal to HQ that it had been diverted off course. 

Aziraphale picked Bob up and looked at him seriously. “Robert J. Crowley, you cannot just _steal_ delivery bots. Now behave and let this device get on it’s way undisturbed.” The delivery bot was already making it’s way back to the path again, and Crowley was giggling away to himself, until Azirpahale swiped at him. “Crowley, set a good example to your son.” Crowley coughed and spluttered, trying to stem the gigling. 

“Yes, yes.. ‘Course. Right. Stoppit you. No more stealing groceries. Bad vac.” He couldn’t keep a straight face and giggled again. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and put Bob back on the grass again. He beeped an apology and trundled off. Lydia meanwhile was being rather more angelic. 

A toddler took advantage of his mother being distracted by her other child and used the opportunity to run toward the duck pond to chase the ducks. Lydia spotted the impending disaster and lurched into action, putting on an extra burst of speed, she intercepted the little boy when he was only two feet from the edge of the pond. He stumbled and fell over her back, so she simply began to carry him back towards his mum. 

The kid was startled at first, and then realised he was getting a free ride from a robot and whooped with joy, shifting to straddle the mower properly. His mum looked up in amazement to see her child being carried towards her on the back of a bright orange robo mower. She hadn’t even realised he’d run off. She scooped him up off Lydia’s back gratefully and held him tight, watching as the peculiar appliance trundled off to join a couple of guys lounging on a picnic blanket further up the park. 

Crowley stood and stretched, then began to pack up the picnic hamper, then folded the blanket as Aziraphale hooked a little trailer on the back of Lydia so she could pull the picnic stuff back home again. They ambled home arm in arm, when Crowley spoke up. “Y’know, Angel, that trailer gives me an idea for next week…”

“Next week?”

“The parade, why don’t we bring the kids? I’ve got an idea, lemme work on it ok?”

* * *

The next week Crowley kissed his angel as he was getting dressed, and stopped him before he put his bow tie on. “Nope, got a different one for you today. Just the bowtie love and just for today. Close your eyes.” Aziraphale obediently closed his eyes and felt Crowley deftly tying a bow tie around his collar, then received a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “All done, take a look, love.”

He opened his eyes to see a rainbow coloured bow tie in place of his usual tartan one. It was definitely not the sort of thing he’d usually wear, but the rest of his outfit was the same, and it was the day for it after all. Strange as it felt, Aziraphale decided that he’d go with it even if only for the day. “Thank you, Crowley, and what will you be wearing?”

Crowley grinned and snapped. His black jeans transformed into black cut-off booty shorts, revealing his long elegant legs, and a pink, white, purple, black and blue genderfluid flag coloured cropped t-shirt that revealed a flash of lean abdomen. His usual black snakeskin boots had been replaced with a fabulously colourful silver holographic pair which reflected a multitude of rainbows in bright flashes with every movement. Aziraphale took in the overall result in wide eyed surprise. 

“Crowley, that's… rather colourful for you, isn’t it dear?”

The demon shrugged. “‘S only one day a year, Aziraphale, besides I feel like looking fabulous today.” He stepped over to the dressing table and rummaged in the top drawer before bringing out a sparkly crimson red lipstick and applying it carefully. “No point doing eyeshadow, it’s not like anyone’ll be able to see it, but can’t beat a bit of lippy. Right, let’s go review the troops eh?”

“Troops?”

“Bob and Lydia. C’mon, Angel.” He led Aziraphale through to the lounge and had him wait while he retreated to the plant room to collect the appliances. “C’mon, kids, come show Aziraphale what you’ve got…”

Lydia came through first, with her little trailer attached. It was festooned with flowers like a carnival float, in a rainbow of blooms. She also had a little rainbow bow on her housing which matched Aziraphale’s bow tie. He smiled to see her looking so pretty. 

Bob trundled through next, towing the little train of trailers that Aziraphale had miracled him up before to give good plants a ride. Each one carried a plant again, and each plant had a different pride flag stuck in the soil of it’s pot. 

* * *

**[ILLUSTRATION By Elwyst!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039161/chapters/63321679?) **

* * *

“Oh, you two look delightful!” Azirpahale gushed, kneeling down to pat Bob and Lydia gently. “Now you make sure to stick close to us, alright? And be on your best behaviour, I’m looking at you, Bob.” Bob beeped politely. Crowley beamed with pride.

* * *

The parade didn’t start far from home, the route being sandwiched between adjacent Mayfair and Soho, so the odd little family didn’t have long to walk to the start point. Crowley and Aziraphale walked side by side holding hands, flanking Bob between them to keep him safe, while Lydia brought up the rear, being rather more robust, as a rearguard for Bob and the plants. A minor miracle though ensured that no one would step too close or jostle them. 

Crowley had another trick up his sleeve. He murmured to Aziraphale then nodded at Lydia’s trailer full of flowers. The angel’s face lit up. He extended his angelic powers a little and felt around them as they walked, seeking out anyone in the crowds who was melancholy, unsure, on their own or who just needed a little extra love, then he’d pluck a flower from Lydia’s trailer and give it to them, drawing a smile from everyone he handed a flower to. Crowley had ensured that Lydia’s flowers wouldn’t run out all day. Nobody noticed that the number of flowers on the trailer didn’t seem to be diminishing. 

They got a fair amount of attention for having the appliances with them, however, and several people wanted selfies with Bob and Lydia. Someone wheeled up to Crowley in a powerchair and complimented his t-shirt. (Crowley was still using he/him pronouns today), flashing their own genderfluid badge. They had a pride flag cable tied to the back of their wheelchair. They offered their phone to Aziraphale and asked if he’d take a photo of them with Bob and Lydia. Crowley intercepted hastily. 

“Oh nononono, lemme take it, you don’t want my Angel taking the photo for you, technology’s not his strong suit…” He held the phone up and took a photo for them while Aziraphale rolled his eyes in mock irritation at the (perfectly accurate) slight. Crowley plucked one of each colour flower from Lydia’s trailer and handed them to the wheelchair user. “Want me to tie them onto the back of your wheelchair for you?”

“Oh thanks, yeah, that’d be great, saves me twisting around to do it.” Crowley grinned and discreetly miracled up some string to attach the little arrangement of rainbow flowers to the back of the seat. “All done, have a good one!” They high fived and they scooted off. 

They carried on, Aziraphale handing out flowers and sending tiny blessings with each one. Aziraphale turned to smile at Crowley and was alarmed to see the demon’s face darkening in displeasure and a low growl beginning to rumble deep in his chest. “Crowley dearest, what’s wrong, love?”

Crowley flicked his head to gesture with his chin in disgust at a woman up ahead who was waving a flag with something written on it that the angel couldn’t make out. “What is it, Crowley?”

“TERF at 2 O’Clock.” Muttered Crowley grimly. Aziraphale finally got to glimpse what was written on the flag, and like most people around them who had also seen, his expression grew firm and disapproving in turn. Aziraphale felt his angelic wrath just beginning to build. “Leave this to me…,” muttered Crowley, as he saw the woman screaming at someone further ahead who was carrying a Transgender pride flag. Bob beeped and nudged at Crowley’s heel. He glanced down in mild surprise then shrugged and nodded. Lydia growled her motors, then the two appliances followed the demon while Aziraphale brought up the rear just in case. 

Crowley snapped his fingers and the woman’s flagpole abruptly broke in two, the unpleasantly worded flag on it fell on her head and she flailed about unable to see. Bob scooted up and munched the trailing end of her shoelace. Trying to take a step, she unbalanced and fell arse-first into the shallow fountain behind her. She squealed and thrashed about until she finally got the flag off her head, casting it aside as she struggled to rise in the slippery fountain. Lydia seized her chance and ran over the flag, blades lowered and engaged, shredding it to ribbons. Bob promptly vacuumed up the remains. 

Crowley smirked and ambled back into line in the parade again, but not before plucking out some blue, pink and white flowers from Lydia’s trailer and handing them to the person who the woman had been shouting at earlier with a wink and a smile. 

They made it to the end of the parade route without any further incidents, although Crowley could have sworn he felt the occasional burst of angelic power and people who had looked like they might be _about_ to start something appeared to forget what they were about to yell and wandered off home looking bemused instead.

“Right crew, home time, yeah? I reckon we can swing by the patisserie on the way home and get a box of pain au chocolats - the ones that leave _loads_ of crumbs everywhere when you bite into them,” Crowley winked at his little minion. Bob winked an LED back. Aziraphale leaned in to give his demon a very thorough kissing, and they ambled back arm in arm. 

But they went via the park so Lydia could get some grass as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a soft one this week. I did have other chapters written before this one, but as it's the start of Pride month and we all *really* need cheering up right now, I decided to queue jump the Pride chapter ahead. Next chapter will be next Tuesday as normal.


	21. Wet'n'Dry predicaments (Now ILLUSTRATED by Elwyst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob gets jealous when Crowley and Aziraphale leave them alone for the evening on date night. Crowley remembers why long hair and vacuum cleaners aren't a good combination, then has a bright idea which really wasn't so bright after all, when he and Bob need to await rescue by an angel.
> 
> **UPDATE: Now[ILLUSTRATED by Elwyst!](https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/64643551)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowlely has she/her pronouns for a while in this chapter.

Aziraphale gazed longingly at Crowley getting ready for date night. Crowley had decided to go femme this evening and had miracled her hair in to a cascade of copper waves down her back. She brushed it out and slid on some Louboutin heels with scarlet soles. Azirpahale adjusted his bow tie having donned a rather smarter, but still pale suit for the evening, cut a little sharper than his usual style, at Crowley’s request. He felt a little uncomfortable but it was still close enough to his regular suit that he soon forgot his discomfiture at the more modern tailoring. 

As Crowley picked the Bentley’s keys off the hook by the door, Bob shot out and ran over her toes, making her gasp out and drop the keys, which Bob promptly ran over and did his best to suck up. There was a metallic rattling noise as they jammed in his suction port. 

“Bob! What the devil d’you think you’re playing at?” she demanded angrily. “Give me back that key. Come on, then. Spit it out.”

Bob growled his motors in defiance. Lydia perked up and rumbled over, took stock of the situation then simply bulldozed the defiant little vacuum off the keys and pinned him against the wall gently. Aziraphale patted her in thanks then retrieved the keys for Crowley. Bob continued to beep and swear under whatever counted as his breath. 

“Thank you, Lydia,” Aziraphale said. “Now, whatever is the problem with you today, Bob?”

Bob blew a raspberry. 

Crowley sighed. “He’s just jealous because we’re going out on date night and they can’t come along. I’m not having this little hellish minion loose in the Savoy Grill while we try to enjoy a romantic evening together.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I see. Well then…” He strode through to the study and pushed the heavy marble desk aside as if it had been made of cardboard, muscles flexing under his suit in a way which made Crowley feel quite warm, and then snapped his fingers. The floor was instantly half covered in long lawn. The other half remained smooth concrete but now was covered in dust. It was the accumulated dust from every apartment in the entire building, miracled into one spot. 

“There, now you two can have your own dinner for two date night at home. Now behave yourselves until we get back, or if you don’t feel like behaving, at least use a surge protector, ok?”

Lydia beeped happily and released Bob from the wall, trundling through to the study to begin grazing. Bob beeped a quiet apology and followed her. Aziraphale took Crowley’s arm and accompanied her to the car. 

They got back later that evening, Crowley clutching a bouquet of flowers that Aziraphale had got for her. She arranged them in a vase and set them on the hall table. Checking in on Bob and Lydia, they found the pair of them snuggled up next to one another on the temporary interior lawn in the study. Bob had vacuumed the concrete floor section clean, and Lydia had mowed the lawn in a spiral heart pattern. Aziraphale beamed at them and they retired to the bedroom. 

Crowley was woken a few hours later by a discordant screaming sound from the hall. She shot out of bed and ran to find out what the problem was. Bob was wailing in the middle of the hallway next to the table where she’d set the vase of flowers, which was now smashed on the floor. One of the appliances must have bumped into the table and knocked the vase off, and now Bob was stuck in the middle of a puddle of water scared to move lest he accidentally sucked any up into his electrics. 

Crowley picked him up, shushing and soothing him gently. “You’re ok Bob, you’re ok, here.. Let me just get some kitchen roll to dry you off… there. You’re ok kid.” She petted him and put him down on a dry bit of floor before cleaning up the spill. Lydia rumbled over and nudged Bob gently, as he was still emitting sad little beeps from the shock. 

Crowley sat on the floor for a minute and petted Bob with Lydia until he settled down again. “You ok now, kid? Go have a nap on your charger, you’ll feel better in the morning.” Bob beeped sadly, and Crowley picked him up and carried him gently over to his charging port then set him down on it with a pat. “Night night, Hellspawn. Sleep tight.”

She slunk back into bed again and cuddled up to her soft angel, who rolled over and wrapped his arms around her and gave her a little kiss. “Everything alright, love?”

“Mmmm, Bob just had an accident, he’s ok now. Love you.”

“Love you too darling.” They drifted off.

* * *

Crowley decided to revert back to masculine form again the next day, but felt like keeping the longer hair for a little while. He brushed it out then tied it back while he cooked breakfast. Bob woke up and set off for his morning amble around the flat to clean up. 

Crowley was mid way through frying the sausages and bacon when he heard an angry series of beeps from the bedroom. “Crowley? Can you come in here please and bring a screwdriver, love?”

Crowley sighed and set the pan aside off the heat. He sauntered through to the bedroom and handed Azirpahale a cocktail glass with a grin. The angel looked at him blankly. “What’s this?”

“A screwdriver - orange juice and vodka, you said you wanted one.”

Azirphale rolled his eyes, but then considered the glass and drank some anyway. “You know very well what I meant, darling. Anyway, Bob appears to have some issue with his brushes, can you take a look please? You’re so much better with him than I am.”

Crowley snapped up a screwdriver, and bent to examine Bob, who was upside down on the bed, beeping swearwords to himself. “Language,” admonished Aziraphale sternly. Crowley unscrewed an access panel to take a look. 

“Balls.”

He glanced guiltily at Aziraphale. Bob’s brushes were wound tightly with a mass of extremely long, and very red hair. “Best get the scissors actually.” He gently extracted the roller and then snapped the scissors from the kitchen and began carefully cutting his own long red hair off Bob’s brushes, feeling rather remorseful. “Sorry, kid, this is my fault, I forgot about the whole hair thing.” Bob beeped angrily and twirled his wheels in the air indignantly. 

Eventually, Bob’s brushes were clear and Crowley lit up the removed mess in a little gout of flame, then reassembled Bob again and set him back on his wheels on the floor with an apologetic pat. Bob glared at him. Crowley sighed and ran his fingers through his long waves, shimmering and banishing them again so his usual shorter crop reasserted itself, then styled the top into his customary quiff. “There, that better?” Bob beeped, still disgruntled at the experience, but mollified. He trundled away. 

Aziraphale reached over and kissed his head affectionately. “I still love your hair whatever length it is, darling.”

* * *

Bob forgave Crowley and a few days elapsed without incident. Crowley still took the occasional opportunity to morph into his (smaller) serpent aspect and ride around on the top of Bob while he cleaned, taking a nap to the soothing vibrations. The only problem was that he occasionally slid off by accident when he relaxed too much and uncoiled in his sleep. He hit upon an idea. 

While Aziraphale was out at the bookshop, he grabbed a shallow wooden fruit bowl from the kitchen and placed it carefully on Bob’s back - perfect. He smiled then slid into his snake form and coiled up happily in the dish and went for a ride. He dozed off after a little while. 

Unfortunately, like many of his schemes, Crowley had failed to think this one through properly. Bob wasn’t used to having the slight height difference of the bowl on his back, so when he went under the sofa he managed to get wedged stuck. He beeped in alarm, waking Crowley, who was in darkness, trapped in a wooden bowl with a sofa tight above his head. 

Oh bugger. 

Bob couldn’t move, he was stuck fast, Crowley couldn’t snap in snake form as he lacked fingers, so couldn’t miracle them out of the predicament. He considered for a moment just turning into his human form again, but the combined weight of him AND the sudden weight of the sofa right on top of Bob when it happened would almost certainly crush the little vac completely. 

He hissed quietly to himself and wondered what on earth he could do. No options presented themselves save for waiting for Aziraphale to get home to rescue them both. 

After about three hours, the angel finally got home. “Crowley?” He looked around, confused. A bumble bee buzzed up to him and bounced off his nose. He batted it away with mild irritation and carried on looking for Crowley. He ambled through every room and saw no trace of the demon at all. Coming back to the lounge he found Crowley’s mobile phone on the coffee table which was strange. The Bentley’s keys were still hung up in the hall as well, so it was unlikely that he’d have gone out without both of them. The bumble bee came back and landed on his nose. Realisation dawned.

He then realised that Bob was also missing. What if Bob had escaped and Crowley had to chase after him to rescue him? But Bob knew better than to try to leave the house without them by now didn’t he? Aziraphale persuaded the bee to sit on his finger, then went to look for Lydia. She was sunning herself in the plant room and woke up with a sleepy beep when he patted her. 

“Lydia, sweetheart, where are Bob and Crowley?”

Lydia looked confused and shrugged by lifting and lowering her cutting height briefly. She followed Aziraphale to look for them. Aziraphale sat down on the sofa to try to think things through, before realising that the answer was in his hands. He regarded the bee carefully. “I realise you’ve found me, but that’s only half of your job, isn’t it? You need to show me where Bob is, can you do that for me?”

The bee flicked its wings and lifted off, then flew under the sofa. Aziraphale could hear it buzzing underneath. He stopped and listened harder. Yes, there was a definite subdued hissing noise as well as the buzzing coming from under the sofa. He got down on hands and knees and looked underneath. 

There was Bob, his LEDs off as presumably his batteries had run out trying to extract himself from the problem. Aziraphale reached under and tried to tug him out to no avail, the little vac was stuck, he looked closer. There appeared to be a bowl on his back, and it had dug into the sofa above. The hissing intensified. 

“Oh, _Crowley_ , what have you done, darling?” The angel sighed. He stood, [then easily lifted the sofa away, revealing an angry red and black snake peering up at him from the bowl on top of the Roomba.](https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/64643551) It slithered out and hastily transformed back into a human form again. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Crowley grumped, stooping to remove the bowl from Bob, he set it aside and picked up the little vac to carry him back to his charging port. 

“Oh, but I think you should…” Aziraphale grinned, his expression set to “Just Enough of A Bastard” mode. 

Crowley curled his lip sarcastically. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Azirpahale giggled. “As do many of your nefarious schemes, darling. Why didn’t you just change back and push the sofa off the top of you both?”

“I’d have squashed Bob.”

“Ah, good point.”

“Just… open us a bottle of something alcoholic will you, Angel?”

Aziraphale gave him a quick kiss and nodded. “Of course you ridiculous serpent.”

But first, he released the bumble bee.


	22. Back to work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has to visit head office again, and takes both appliances this time, before deciding that some demonic daycare is probably better than having them in a team meeting. Dagon obliges.

Crowley checked his phone and sighed theatrically. “Right _fine_. C’mon Bob, fancy a ride in the car? At least you might bring some amusement to proceedings.” He stood and called out rather louder: “Aziraphale?”

The angel looked through from the office where he’d been re-binding an old book. “Yes dear?”

“Got to pop into work, taking Bob again, not sure how long I’ll be so I’ll grab us something for dinner on the way home, ok?”

“Oh, ok darling. Are you taking Lydia as well?”

“D’you think she’d be ok, being angelic and everything?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “I don’t see why not, she’s tougher than she looks.”

“Fair point. Ok, LYDIA! C’mon love, we’re going for a car ride.” The robo mower hefted herself up from where she’d been dozing in a sunspot in the plant room and lumbered to the door to wait. Bob went to nudge her, then remembered something and zoomed to twirl around Crowley’s feet as he put his jacket on, then headbutted a cupboard in the hallway impatiently. Crowley realised what he wanted after a moment, bent down and fished out the little red plastic horns, then rummaged a little further back and fished out Bob’s flamethrower attachment. He sat on the floor for a moment to fit them before standing up again. 

Lydia appeared to be thinking. She scooted to the letter board and spelled out “B-O-W.” Aziraphale watched from the desk as she did so. “You want your bow removing for the day?” She beeped assent and came up to the angel for it to be taken off. He stashed it away in the drawer for later then gave her a little pat. Crowley went to give his angel a quick kiss and a hug before they left, then grabbed the Bentley keys and led the pair of appliances to the lift. 

“We’ll take the service lift again when we get to Broadgate Tower, there’s no way I’m lugging the pair of you down on the escalator. Bob you’re more familiar with the place now, so you help keep an eye on Lydia, ok buddy?” Bob flashed his LEDs red and beeped as deeply as he could manage. When they got to the Bentley, Lydia beeped politely and dipped her mowing height in greeting, before Crowley lifted her awkwardly onto the passenger seat, she was too big and awkward to manoeuvre into the back seat as it was only a two door car. Bob sat in the driver’s footwell and gave it a quick vacuum again.

* * *

Once they arrived and made their way down in the lift, Lydia engaged her blades so she emitted a slightly threatening low rumble, increasing her intimidation factor somewhat. She was already far more rugged looking than Bob anyway, and was clearly determined not to be underestimated. After her performance in Ikea, Crowley thought she shouldn’t have any worries. 

They made their way to the crowded meeting room where Crowley leant against the back wall to observe proceedings. Beelzebub stood at the front of the room by a podium giving some boring speech, Hastur stood to the side and slightly behind them, Eric the disposable demon stood next to him.

Bob began to vacuum around the room enthusiastically, delighting in all the dirt to be found. Occasionally he let out a small gout of flame at an unwary ankle that stood in his way, and soon the assembled crowd of demons politely made way for his determined trundling around the floor. Lydia followed him close, growling her motors at anyone who took too much interest in her. 

Eventually Bob worked his way to the front of the room, and was thrilled to find that Hastur had dropped quite a lot of dirt around his person. Bob circled him happily cleaning up the mess that the filthy demon cast off wherever he went. 

Beelzebub’s flies buzzed around them in an erratic orbit. Hastur eyed them carefully, unable to take his eyes off them. The frog on his head shifted it’s weight uneasily as it fidgeted. Beelzebub droned on. After a little while, Hastur was clearly transfixed, his eyes following Beelzebub’s flies avidly. He couldn’t restrain himself any longer. Quick as a flash an absurdly long tongue flashed out and grabbed one of the flies. He shut his mouth again with a snap, eyes wide and tried to look innocent. 

Beelzebub spun around and fixed him with an acid stare. 

“LEAVE MY BUZZIES ALONE!” 

Hastur shook his head and pointed at Eric accusingly. Eric just looked horrified. Lydia ran a wheel (but thankfully not her blades) over Hastur’s foot, causing him to open his mouth to swear, and as he did a fly flew out and re-joined the rest in a holding pattern around Beelzebub’s head. They glared at Hastur, eyes narrowed. “Get out.” They buzzed venomously at him. Hastur hastily complied. Bob followed him, happily cleaning up the trail of dust and dirt he left in his wake until Crowley whistled at him sharply.

 _“Get back here you little Hellspawn,”_ Crowley hissed, urgently. Bob ignored him and continued to follow after Hastur and his enticing trail of dirt. Lydia sped up a little, raised her mowing height, caught up with Bob then lowered her height again so a corner of her housing overlapped his and pinned him to the ground, halting him in his tracks. Bob whined pathetically as he watched his new favourite dirt dispenser walking off. The frog atop Hastur’s head winked at him. 

Crowley slunk over, trying not to draw attention to himself, crouched down, patted Lydia in thanks and retrieved Bob. “What d’you think you’re doing, Bob? You’ve got to stick with me when you’re down here unless I say otherwise.” He glanced up as Dagon ambled past.

“Everything ok, Crowley?” She asked, eyeing up the pair of appliances with interest. “What’re they?”

“Uh, yeah. Hastur just got into trouble, he tried to eat one of Beelzebub’s flies.”

“Not the first time.”

“No, but _this_ time Beez saw him.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah. Anyway this is Bob and Lydia, they’re my minions. Would you mind maybe watching them for a little bit while I’m in the meeting? Bob kind of took a liking to Hastur and I don’t want him following him again, or stirring up trouble in here. Lydia shouldn’t be a bother. I won’t be long. I’d ask Eric but he’s in the meeting too. Bob likes laser pointers, and video games, especially fruit ninja, if you’ve got any knives, or fruit.”

Dagon’s eyes lit up. “Oh _knives_ , yeah, I _definitely_ have knives.” She grinned widely. “Pretty sure I can conjure up some fruit, sounds fun, leave them with me.” 

Crowley nodded thanks and slipped quietly back into the meeting, hoping that Dagon would be ok with Bob. Lydia he wasn’t too worried about, she was level headed and sensible, but Bob could get carried away.

* * *

As soon as the meeting was over, Crowley made to slink toward the exit, only to be intercepted by Beelzebub. “Crowley, juzzt the demon I wanted to talk to…” they scowled. Crowley paused and swallowed nervously. 

“Uh, hi, Beez, good to see you, um…”

They cut him off. “I don’t szzuppoze you’d know anything about szzome pink glitter manifezzting in a certain szzomebody’zz office, would you?”

Crowley looked at the Prince of Hell levelly for a moment. “No… I don't believe I do. I don’t suppose you know anything about a quantity of pink glitter manifesting in _my_ office, do you?” 

Beelzebub paused at the stalemate, cogs turning slowly in their head. 

“Nnnooo….” They finally said, slowly. “I szzuppoze it izz a myszztery then. Nevermind, Szzee you at the next szztaff meeting.” They turned on their heel and stalked away. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief, and went to find Dagon in her office. 

This time, when he walked in, it was Crowley’s turn to be hit in the face by a piece of mushy fruit. A dragon fruit in this instance. Dagon was sitting on her desk grinning widely, throwing handfuls of fruit at Bob and Lydia. Lydia’s outer housing had been removed exposing her sharp blades so she could join in, although she was more obliterating the fruit into an instant smoothie than chopping it like Bob, who had a single short katana blade gaffer taped to his lid. 

Bob beeped happily in greeting and charged over to greet Crowley, who leapt onto the desk next to Dagon just in time to avoid being accidentally speared through the ankle by the overenthusiastic vac. “DUDE! Watch the blade will ya?” Bob stopped and beeped apologetically. Lydia trundled over rather slower and dipped her cutting height in greeting. 

“Well it looks like you two have been having plenty of fun here, but it’s home time. Bob, we need to give Dagon back her katana.”

“Oh he can keep it, it’s fine, I’ve got loads.”

Crowley considered it for a moment. Bob flashed his LEDs appealingly at him. Crowley sighed regretfully. “Sorry Bob, but Aziraphale really, _really_ wouldn’t approve, gimme the katana, dude.” He knelt down and peeled the tape off then handed the sword back to Dagon, miracled both devices clean again, re-fitted Lydia’s housing, thanked Dagon and headed back upstairs again via the service lift. . 

On the way home, Crowley stopped at the doughnut shop to pick up a selection box for Aziraphale. Bob eyed the box covetously. Crowley eyed Bob warily as he sat in the footwell, his attention fixed on the box on the passenger seat. “No snapping that down on the floor with you, Hellspawn. I won’t have crumbs in the Bentley, and no I don’t care that you can vacuum them up. No eating in the car.” Bob grumbled indignantly.

* * *

Back in the flat, Crowley snuggled his angel on the sofa as he nibbled on a doughnut and recounted the afternoon’s adventures. Bob remained at their feet, being patient, but also making sure they didn’t forget he was there. Aziraphale took the hint and selected an entire doughnut from the box, placing it on the floor in front of Bob, who looked at it, incredulous at the generosity, and perplexed about how he was going to go about consuming it. It was too big for his suction port. 

“Why’d you do that, Angel?” Crowley was curious. Aziraphale winked at him. 

“I’m interested to see what he does about it,” he whispered back. 

Lydia had watched the interaction and rumbled over, nudged Bob aside, ran over the doughnut, engaged her clutch, spun her blades up for a second, then trundled off again, leaving a mess of doughnut crumbs in her wake. Bob looked at her in amazement, then beeped a thrilled little beep, scooted up to his girlfriend, booped her affectionately, (to which she nudged him back), then spun around again to devour the crumbs with delight. 

“Teamwork,” Aziraphale whispered to Crowley, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately I've had a few chapters pre-written and saved up for when I'm struggling to write comedy, which unfortunately I have been recently due to a lot of different personal issues going on at the same time, this is one of them. I've still got one or two more in hand, then I can hopefully get back to writing fresh Bob chapters. I have masses of prompt material, but it takes work to put them together into a chapter, and depression has been kicking my arse recently so I've only been able to write angst. (At least some damn good angst has come out of it anyway). 
> 
> As always, feel fee to give me more suggestions in the comments, they are always very much appreciated, then you can keep an eye out for your ideas cropping up in future chapters. Thank you to those of you who have already given me so many good suggestions, and been patient enough to wait for them to crop up in these pre-written sections, I know sometimes you've been waiting for a while, but I did have LOT of extra chapters written at the beginning and have been rationing them out. 
> 
> Even if you don't have suggestions, I always love reading the comments, I check them every morning and they always make me smile and set me up for the day so thank you. Keysmashes and emojis are equally welcome, I just love the enthusiasm of my lovely readers. 
> 
> And for those of you who want to leave more kudos - comments = kudos around here :) 
> 
> Thanks again, stay safe. <3


	23. Fruit and feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley does some mild civil disobedience in the form of guerrila gardening, the appliances play tug-of-war with messy consequences, nearly give Crowley a heart attack, and Gabriel is having a very slow existential crisis.

Crowley ambled along the street wearing his Fuck Shit Up Jacket, thick black wool with bright orange across the shoulders. It helped him pass for a generic maintenance worker and ensured that most people didn’t bother him when he was up to his devious shenanigans. 

The appliances followed him closely. Lydia was towing her trailer which was filled with various short branches and esoteric gardening equipment. Bob was happily vacuuming up random litter as he trundled along. They came to an immature apple tree, the first of many planted neatly down the pavement on this street by the council. Crowley stopped and plucked a pair of secateurs and a sharp Stanley knife from Lydia’s trailer. He carefully lopped off a couple of small branches, then cut a careful notch in them with the Stanley knife. 

Next he plucked some discreet grafting tape from the trailer and an apple branch he’d brought with him. He cut the base of it to fit the notch he’d cut on the tree’s branch stub, then slid the two together. He bound the graft with tape, then repeated it with a couple more branches, each one he’d tagged with a different colour to show the different varieties of apple they should bear. 

That tree done, Crowley sauntered along to the next, and the next, and the next. A few people gave him mildly curious looks but most were disinterested in someone who seemed to be a council worker attending to public trees and walked on in their own little world oblivious. 

Eventually, Crowley ran out of fresh branches to graft and packed up his gardening kit, feeding the branches he’d pruned from the trees to Lydia to mulch up with her blades. Bob vacuumed up the tiny shreds. He whistled to the appliances and led the way home.

* * *

Aziraphale heard the front door open and the happy buzz of Bob and Lydia as they rushed around the flat looking for him, before finding him in the office, sitting in Crowley’s throne and doing some paperwork on the big red marble desk. They buzzed around his feet happily, giving the odd excited beep and nudging at his ankles, while he heard Crowley putting some stuff away in the other room. 

“And what’s got you two so excited, hmm?” Lydia gave a few measured beeps, while Bob kept interrupting with rather more excitable ones and LED flashes. Exasperated, he scooted over to his letter board on the floor in the corner to spell out a few words that Aziraphale couldn’t guess yet. 

“Cutting trees?” Aziraphale queried, concerned. Lydia beeped to correct Bob’s explanation. “Oh, I see,  _ grafting  _ trees. What was all that about then?” Crowley sauntered into the study and slid into his angel’s lap, giving him a cuddle and a kiss.

“Just a bit of horticultural noncompliance, love. Guerilla gardening I call it. The apple trees the council planted are just decorative, they don’t actually bear any fruit. I just grafted a load of eating apple scions onto the root stock. Give it a couple of years and bam! Free apples for everybody.” He grinned mischievously. 

“Six thousand years and you’re still up to no good by defying authority and tempting humans to eat apples. I don’t know, whatever shall I do with you, love?” Aziraphale sighed in mock resignation, trying to conceal a smile. 

“Well you could always give me a good smiting, Angel.” Crowley winked and nuzzled into his neck affectionately. 

“I think you’d enjoy that far too much, dear.”

“That’s sort of the idea, Aziraphale.” Crowley countered. 

“Not in front of the appliances, love. Save it for later.” Aziraphale gave him another kiss and endeavoured to reach around the demon’s slim body to carry on with his paperwork while still hugging him. Crowley wrapped his gangly limbs around his angel and rested his head on his shoulder with a contented smile. Bob and Lydia retreated to their charging ports to take a nap.

* * *

A little while later Lydia awoke and trundled off to see if anything interesting was going on. There were a couple of pillows on the sofa and floor in the lounge, but the angel and demon had evidently gone out again while she was asleep. Bob had vacuumed up a corner of one of the pillows in his brushes and was dragging it around at high speed by zooming backwards while gripping it, beeping happily as he did, bouncing the pillow off things as he went. 

Lydia growled her motors disapprovingly at him. She was pretty sure that Aziraphale would not approve of Bob playing with the pillows. Bob paused, then winked an LED at her, beeped, and carried on. 

Lydia gave the robotic equivalent of a sigh and followed. Bob scooted into the study still dragging the pillow and she cornered him near the window and demanded that he hand it over so she could return it to the bedroom where such things belonged. 

Bob blew a robotic raspberry at her. 

Lydia rolled forward and tried to grab at the other corner of the pillow by snagging it with the corner of a blade, and tugged backwards. Bob dug his wheels in, reversed and pulled back, refusing to relinquish his new toy. Lydia reversed, dragging Bob with her on the other end of the pillow, his tyres squealing in reverse the whole way, tugging sharply at the cloth between them in protest. 

Lydia grumbled and pulled back harder, not quite realising her own strength. She felt the fabric start to slip so rotated her blades a little more to try to tug it back, when all of a sudden everything suddenly moved rather too fast and before she knew what was happening there was an explosion of feathers all over the room, her blades whizzed up to full speed with the tension removed from them, shredding the pillowcase itself into tiny pieces that joined the fluttering drift of downy white feathers. 

She stopped, horrified, and looked around. 

Bob charged through the drifts of feathers beeping manically, sending plumes of fluff into the air around him and spinning in delight at the chaos. Lydia beeped at him frantically, begging him to vacuum it all up before Crowley got home. Bob blew a raspberry at her and charged through the piles of feathers again with glee. 

Just then Lydia heard the key in the lock and both appliances froze in alarm. Lydia beeped accusingly at Bob, who beeped back equally accusingly at her, then started frantically vacuuming up feathers as fast as he could. He’d only got less than a quarter of the way through the pile before Crowley walked into the study and took in the carnage in horror. 

He stared wide-eyed at the pile of white feathers all over the place, his jaw dropped. 

_ “Aziraphale???” _ He whispered. 

He fell to his knees on the floor and frantically scooped up handfuls of white feathers in disbelief. Lydia, realising he had got entirely the wrong idea hurriedly dragged the shredded remains of the pillowcase up to Crowley to show him. He stared at the scraps of white cloth in confusion for a moment before realisation dawned. Bob sat still, and coughed out a single white feather in embarrassment. 

“BLOODY HELL YOU TWO, YOU NEARLY DISCORPORATED ME!” Crowley glared at the pair of them. “Bloody PILLOW! What the  _ hell  _ were you playing at?” Lydia lowered her mowing height in shame and looked sheepish. Bob managed to look shamefaced as well and flicked a feather back and forth with his whiskers distractedly. 

Just then, Aziraphale arrived home again from whatever errand he’d been on and came through to the study. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene of Crowley kneeling amidst drifts of snowy white feathers and two very guilty looking robots. 

“What in heaven’s name has been going on here?”

Crowley turned to look at his angel. “My thoughts exactly. I thought something had happened to you! These two exploded a pillow.” He glared at the pair of them. “Right, Bob, get vacuuming. Lydia, go and sit on your charger and think about what you’ve done. No evening walkies today for either of you.”

He stood and gave Aziraphale a relieved hug then went to get a stiff drink while Bob tidied the feathers.

* * *

Meanwhile, in heaven… 

Gabriel was rubber stamping some requisition forms he’d been sent when the first feather fell on his head. He scratched at his hair idly, extracted the single white semiplume, shrugged and flicked it aside, then carried on checking the forms. 

After a few moments he noticed another, then another, then a pile of them in drifts around his office chair. 

He panicked and stabbed the intercom frantically “Michael? Michael! Get in here!”

Michael set her coffee aside with an exasperated sigh and stomped through to Gabriel’s office. She found him spinning in circles, all six wings out, frantically craning his neck trying to see behind his own shoulder blades in a fluster. 

“What’s wrong this time, Gabriel?” Michael groused at him. He had been calling her into his office more and more frequently recently. “Is it going to be like when you asked me if you had dandruff and it turned out to be milk powder?”

“Am I going bald?”

“What?”

“My  _ wings _ , Michael? Are they going  _ bald _ ? I can’t see!” He wailed desperately, neck straining and pulling at his own wings in agitation. 

Michael took in the drift of feathers on the floor in confusion, then circled her colleague and checked his wings. “Not that I can see, all present and correct, if a little dusty. Do you ever  _ groom  _ these things? They’re a right state. Perhaps you’ve been moulting on the ethereal plane and the feathers all just built up and broke through to this one?”

“I don’t _ know! _ ” Gabriel wailed.

Michael snapped and banished all the feathers, then handed him a card. “Here, go and see Zaradiel, he’s a fantastic hairdresser and also does wing makeovers, tell him I sent you, and get those things cleaned up for goodness sake, you’re making the place look untidy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next week: you suggested it, I wrote it: RELEASE THE CLAYMORE ROOMBA!


	24. Welcome to the jungle (we've got fun and games!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's been a burglar about, and Crowley isn't going to stand for it - not in his apartment building. He assembles the troops and devises a darstadly plan to put a stop to things. Bob is eager to help. Crowley gets a bit carried away with the movie quotes however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by this sent in by a fan:  
>   
> *I decided to tinker with the wording a little however.

Crowley stormed into the flat, flinging the front door open with a bang, a furious look on his face. Aziraphale looked up from his tea in alarm. “Whatever is wrong, darling?” Crowley flung himself onto the sofa, seething, and the angel recognised in alarm a familiar wave of demonic anger boiling off his love’s aura. 

“You’re thinking vengeful thoughts, Crowley” he said, levelly. “And I’d like you to share with me why before you do anything rash, darling.” He waited, watching Crowley grind his teeth and glare out of the window, every muscle tense, then laid a gentling hand on his thigh. “Crowley…? We promised we’d communicate, love. Talk to me.”

Crowley gradually dragged his mind back from whatever dark thoughts he was dwelling on with the comforting touch of his angel on his thigh. He drew a long deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, took another steadying breath, then opened his eyes again, laid his hand on Aziraphale’s then finally spoke. 

“There’s been a spate of burglaries in the area, including in _MY_ BLOODY BUILDING!” He closed his eyes and took another breath before continuing. “They broke into Mrs. Stanley’s flat as well and stole her late husband’s RAF medals and her jewellery plus some other stuff. Don’t worry, Albert the cat is ok, she found him hiding under the bed.” 

Aziraphale saw Crowley digging his fingernails into his palms hard, and leaned over to wrap his demon up in his arms for a comforting hug. He felt Crowley slowly start to melt into the embrace and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “So, what’s the plan?” he murmured against his skin. A slow grin suffused Crowley’s face at his angel’s words and he drew back to take in his beautiful bastard angel’s face, seeing those angelic features likewise glowing with some kind of righteous mischief. 

“I have an idea… BOB!”

* * *

Crowley sat on the floor with the roomba, checking he understood his role. 

“Right, now your ipod has a selection of movie quotes on it, those are the ones we listened to earlier, feel free to choose whichever ones you think fit best in the moment. I’ve set up an Alexa in the vacant flat on the ground floor, that’s our bait home. I’m leaving a window ajar to tempt the bastards in. Me and Aziraphale will be on standby, and Lydia will be waiting outside as well just in case.”

Aziraphale wandered into the study with a tray bearing two cups of tea. He stopped wide-eyed when he saw Bob’s latest upgrade. 

“Crowley…”

“Yes, love?” Crowley stood and retrieved his mug from the tray along with a biscuit. 

“Is that.... _live?_ ”

Crowley snorted and sprayed biscuit crumbs in the process. “Don’t be daft, Angel. D’you think I’d put live ordinance on Bob? It’s not a kamikaze mission. There’s no detonator, it’s just for intimidation. We’re still sticking with plan B for the main event.” He gave a sly wink to the angel. “Let’s get set up downstairs, shall we?”

* * *

It was several hours later. Jack slunk around the apartment building and spotted a ground floor window standing ajar. Perfect. He crept up to the window and listened carefully for a while, no sound at all from within. Spot on. He pulled the window open wider and climbed carefully through the window. 

He was in a bedroom, he flicked the lights on, confident that no one was home. It was fairly normally decorated, looked like a show home if anything. He began to riffle around for anything that might be worth nicking. He heard something and froze midway through opening a drawer. Something clicked on. He heard a pre-recorded voice talking. 

_“Alexa, play ‘Welcome to the jungle’ by Guns’n’Roses.”_ _  
_ Somewhere, music began to play. Jack’s eyes darted around in alarm.   
  
_“Turn off all the lights.”_ _  
_ Jack was plunged into darkness again.   
  
_“Release Claymore Roomba.”_   
  
“What the FUCK?” Jack panicked. Sure enough, he could just make out in the gloom the shape of a robotic vacuum cleaner trundling through the door with a claymore explosive attached to it’s housing, a couple of wires trailed from it into its body. It also wore an ipod in a speaker dock. A familiar movie quote suddenly erupted from it. 

_“What’s the difference between the army and the cub scouts? The cub scouts don’t have heavy artillery!”_

The Roomba closed in on him. Jack stumbled backwards toward the window he’d come in through, only to find it mysteriously closed and locked again. He scrabbled at the handle in panic, glancing over his shoulder at the approaching device. Another movie quote was dispensed, this time from _Full Metal Jacket_ rather than _Good Morning, Vietnam._

_“You are the lowest form of life on earth!”_

Jack leapt onto the bed and around the Roomba, then fled through to the living room. He heard the device change direction and follow him. 

_“You’re so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece!”_

Jack scrabbled at the front door, finding it also locked, then for the lounge windows, also locked tight. He banged on the glass in desperation, forgetting it was reinforced triple glazing. The Roomba had entered the living room behind him and was closing in again. Jack, sobbing in panic, leapt onto the sofa then tried to climb up a wall cabinet in a desperate attempt to put distance between him and his impending doom. His hands slipped as he grappled at the smooth finish of the expensive cabinetry, offering no hand holds, he leapt for the top of the tall unit, fingers gripping the top edge, and his trainers squeaking as they scrabbled for purchase on the front. 

_“If god wanted you up there, he would have miracled your ass up there by now wouldn’t he?”_

Jack slithered down and landed with a thump on the floor. The Roomba wheeled around the sofa and kept on coming. 

_“Were you born a slimy scumbag, you piece of shit, or did you have to work on it?”_

The music changed to Ride of the Valkyries, and a countdown began. Jack screeched like a little girl, scrambled to his feet, slipped, bumped his head on the back of the sofa, swore, found his feet and ran to the hallway

_“5…”_

Jack ran back into the bedroom.

_“4…”_

He tried the windows again, whimpering.

_“3…”_

He looked around desperately, then ran into the bathroom.

_“2…”_

The Roomba followed him into the bathroom.

_“1…”_

The thief leapt on top of the toilet cistern, trying to reach the small window above, which was just as locked as the others. 

_“RELEASE THE BEES!”_

Jack gaped in stupefied shock as all the lights in the flat came on at once, and a swarm of bees began to pour out from underneath the Roomba, all heading for him, buzzing around his head. He flailed madly and fell off the toilet cistern, scrabbling on all fours and running back into the bedroom, where he came face to face with a tall, skinny redhead dressed all in black. He froze, eyes wide. The man seemed totally relaxed, with an easy smile on his face. Presumably the demented homeowner. 

The redhead dipped his head, brought one hand up to slide his shades down his nose, and regarded the human over the top of them with malevolent yellow slitted eyes. His grin widened until it revealed fangs far too sharp to be human, and a forked tongue flickered out briefly. 

Jack could not hold back his whimpers anymore than his bladder, and both began to leak against his will. The bees swarmed in and around him, although he hadn’t noticed that none of them had stung him yet. He was rooted to the spot. He felt something nudge up against his ankle with a beep and let rip with a scream that Crowley could have sworn went ultrasonic. 

The thief launched himself around Crowley, picked up a chair and threw it at the window, finally smashing it. He leapt through, rolled as he hit the grass outside, and began to run. Crowley cackled and followed suit. Jack didn’t get far before he tripped over a robot lawn mower, then was tackled from behind by the surprisingly strong redhead and pinned to the ground. Crowley rolled him over and hissed at him with a demonic grin. He snapped his fingers and the swarm of bees dissipated and buzzed away to investigate the nearby gardens. 

“What… what d’yer want?” Jack whimpered. He could swear he could feel _claws_ where the crazy dude held him against the ground. 

“I need your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle.” Crowley growled. Jack’s brows knitted in utter confusion. Just then a smartly dressed blonde gentleman came around the corner of the building tutting. 

“ _Really_ , Crowley behave, don’t terrorise the poor boy.”

Jack was completely lost. “I don’t have a motorcycle…” he said, worried he’d anger the creature further. 

_“Crowley…”_ The blonde looked stern and sounded disapproving. The redhead rolled those freakish eyes of his, slid his shades back up his nose again and sat up, releasing Jack with a grumpy snarl.

_“Fine.”_

Jack tried to get to his feet again to run, but found his arm gripped gently but firmly by the blonde, completely immovable. His trainers skidded on the wet grass as he tried to run on the spot, held in place by the unnervingly strong newcomer. “Now, young man. Where is your vehicle?”

“Don’t have one,” Jack lied quickly. The blonde gave him an old-fashioned, cynical look. 

“Humans can’t lie to angels. Try again.”

“Don’t bother, Aziraphale, I’ve got this…” The redhead stepped toward him and sniffed near his face, that weirdly long, forked tongue flickered out between his lips, making the thief shudder in fear, then the redhead _(Crowley?)_ , turned and sniffed the air in the same way, then began walking. The blonde _(Azira-something?)_ followed, dragging an unresisting Jack along with him by the arm. 

They rounded the corner to a small car parking area near the side of the apartment block. Crowley scented the air, then honed in immediately on a nondescript blue transit van with unerring accuracy. Jack began to shake with fear. “That’s not mine,” he protested. Crowley looked at him with one eyebrow raised and his head on one side, not believing a word. 

He stepped up to Jack again, as the human cringed back, Crowley reached forward, then, not breaking eye contact, delved in the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms and withdrew a key, holding it up between their faces with a satisfied smirk. 

“Then I suppose this won’t unlock it then, will it?” He turned on his heel and stepped back over to the van, unlocking it with the key and rolling open the side door. Jack hung his head. The game was up. His fingerprints were all over the stolen contents. Not to mention the also-stolen van. He’d technically been telling the truth when he’d said it wasn’t his. He’d stolen it with the keys by sticking a fishing pole through a letterbox to reach the keys hung in the owner’s hallway. Crowley growled deep in his throat, then came back over to Aziraphale and Jack, taking the latter’s free arm in his strong, still clawed hand firmly.

“Ok, Angel, you go and take Bob and Lydia back upstairs and fix the broken window, I’ll hold onto this waste of skin. And while we wait he’s going to tell me exactly where Mrs. Stanley’s stolen possessions are hidden.”  
  
Jack met the creature’s gaze again and suddenly knew, with an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he absolutely would, whether he liked it or not. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t get an option. 

“And then,” Crowley continued, “we’re going for a little drive…”

* * *

Under Jack’s directions, they’d driven the transit van back to the garage lockup where he hid his ill-gotten gains, and loaded up with them. Next, with a little angelic manipulation to help his mind remember exactly which homes each item came from, they spent the night driving around and delivering stolen items back to their erstwhile owners. Who answered their doors, sleep befuddled, were handed their possessions, and then left with a puzzled feeling of not being quite sure who had just handed them over, standing confused on their doorsteps clutching a box of their stolen items. 

The penultimate trip was to return all the items stolen from Crowley’s apartment building, including Mrs. Stanley’s treasures. Finally, Crowley left Aziraphale in the van with Jack, fetched the Bentley, and followed the transit back to its real owner’s driveway again. Aziraphale then dragged Jack into the Bentley and they drove away.

* * *

The next morning, Jack woke up in his own bed, with some very confused memories about what had happened the night before. Much to his mum’s surprise, he got up early, got showered and dressed, then went to sign up to volunteer with a local charity while he carried on looking for a full time job. 

He never did get over his irrational fear of vacuum cleaners however, particularly automated ones, or the unease he felt whenever he saw old classic cars, especially Bentleys. He very _definitely_ never attempted to steal anything ever again.

* * *

( **If you want to know where some of the quotes came from, see below. Content warning for profanity!)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thank you to all you lovely Bob fans who keep sending me inspiration, especially the random roomba memes. I do end up receiving some of them several times but I don't mind! I love how many people see roomba stuff and think of Bob, I love to see it so feel free to tag me. Next week's chapter is another recent fan submission where Lydia makes a new friend.


	25. "How to effectively co-parent your sentient appliances" by Anthony J Crowley & A.Z. Fell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In lieu of a new chapter this week, instead you get a whole new ficlet, linked in this chapter for ease of flow. Enjoy!

After a comment on this fic, I decided to write a little standalone work to go with Roomba of Doom, where Aziraphale decides to start writing a rather unique parenting manual with Crowley. Click below to read:

> [ **https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118743** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118743)

Service will resume as normal next week with another regular Doomba chapter.   



	26. Lawn roomba and the sheepdog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia makes a new friend.
> 
> Loads of you sent me the tumblr post which inspired this chapter. Thanks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for lack of update last week, I wasn't well.

Crowley topped off Aziraphale’s glass with some more 1811 Chateau d'Yquem, chinked the rims and sipped at his own, before passing the bowl of strawberries over again. He’d grown them himself on the small rooftop garden. They had all the delicate fragrance and intense flavour of a tiny wild strawberry in a larger fruit size, they were his own variety that he’d spent several decades cultivating. Aziraphale closed his eyes in bliss as he ate one. Crowley smiled to see his angel so happy. 

They made a regular habit of having a picnic down the park with the appliances whenever the weather was good. It was midsummer and there were plenty of people enjoying the sunshine, including several dog walkers as usual. 

A black and white border collie wearing a distinctive yellow Dogs Trust collar scooted around at high speed on a long lead. Suddenly the dog froze, eyes locked onto Lydia as she trundled around. The dog dropped to the grass, eyes intently tracking the robo mower’s movements, she let out a low ‘wuff’, then skittered sideways in a rapid, low-to-the-ground crab crawl, trying to flank the bright orange appliance. 

Lydia trundled on oblivious, mowing the grass happily. 

The collie on the other hand, dropped to her belly again, merely twitching an ear in her owner’s direction as she called the dog unsuccessfully. Next moment, the dog was on her feet again, zooming at high speed around to the left as Lydia changed direction, then halted, one paw raised, dropped again and began to belly-crawl toward the appliance, quivering with tension. She let out a sudden, sharp bark, which was soundly ignored by the mower.

Lydia trundled peacefully toward the immobile sheepdog who had now, presumably, decided that the grass-munching alien was, in fact, some kind of blind, deaf, and particularly stupid sheep. The dog stood up, uncertainly, then raised one paw and batted at Lydia’s front bump guard. 

The robo mower, who had been in her own little world up to that point, stopped in surprise. The dog in front of her wasn’t moving, so she treated it like any other immobile object and reversed up to change direction, using her old robotic instincts to get around the problem. 

The dog twitched her head on one side, one ear flopping and the other upright, then darted right and bopped Lydia’s bumper bar again. Lydia halted, mildly irritated, then took in the dog’s delighted expression, both ears perked up, mouth open wide and tongue lolling, tail lashing happily, and body now relaxed in a play bow, ecstatic that she’d made the appliance bend to her will. 

Lydia relented and waited to see what her new friend would do next. 

The dog batted at her bumper bar again, so Lydia obediently reversed, rotated a little, and began to move off in a new direction. The dog followed happily, darting in little half circles around her and occasionally giving happy little yips. 

When Lydia got “too close” to the path for the dog’s liking, she sprinted forward and batted at her bumper bar with one paw. Lydia obediently stopped and turned in a different direction, allowing the dog to think she was herding the robo mower. 

Crowley nudged Aziraphale and nodded over toward where dog and appliance were interacting happily together on the grass with a giggle. Aziraphale snorted wine out of his nose at the dog’s antics as Crowley patted him on the back while he choked with laughter. 

Bob trundled around a tree and took in the scene. A black and white furry creature was slapping his girlfriend. Bob saw red. He charged in, trailing a wailing beep in his wake, LEDs on red, spitting a trail of very bemused bees who lost interest immediately and buzzed off to investigate the flowers. 

The dog saw the roomba charging down on her, and her ears pricked up in delight,  _ TWO sheep to herd!  _ She yipped happily and scooted to intercept Bob, lifted a paw and bopped him on his nose. 

Bob screeched to a halt and burped another bee in surprise. 

The dog tapped him again, more lightly this time. Bob backed up in sheer shock. The dog wagged her tail. Bob recovered his senses and charged forwards again, aiming for her toes, making the dog dance backwards, lifting first one, then the other front paw high as his brushes tickled her feet, yipping in alarm while behind them Lydia whirred her motors in robotic laughter. 

The dog wasn’t used to sheep chasing back, so suddenly stopped and slapped at Bob’s bumper bar again. He stopped on instinct, furious. The dog ran around him and barked at him from behind. Bob spun around to face her, but she kept sprinting in circles around him, as Bob spun on his axis, getting dizzier and dizzier. 

Suddenly a bee landed on the dog’s nose. She stopped and went cross eyed trying to look at the small, fuzzy, buzzing invader. She sneezed. The bee flew off for a moment, then settled back on her nose again. The dog ran backwards, shaking her head, the very patient bee followed, repeatedly landing on her nose, until the dog had backed up all the way to her owner, then sat down suddenly in the grass and sneezed a final time. The bee flew away. 

Crowley whistled for the appliances to come back to the picnic blanket and scattered some crumbs for Bob, giving him a consoling pat. “Well done for saving Lydia, dude, but I think she was having fun y’know. She’s allowed to make new friends of her own. Chill out a little.”

Lydia nudged Bob and gave him a couple of beeps. Bob beeped back, mollified. Lydia nudged him playfully, and Bob nudged her back gently. Aziraphale beamed at the pair of them. “Right then, picnic time over, shall we go home? Come on, you two. We can stop by the patisserie on the way home.”

Bob beeped loudly at the same time as Crowley let out a triumphant laugh. “RIGHT! Pay up!” Bob grumbled his motors, reversed them and spat out a pound coin at Crowley’s feet. “And the rest. I won, double or nothing, remember?” Bob spat out another pound coin. Crowley smirked and stuck his tongue out at the roomba. Aziraphale looked on in confusion. 

“Crowley, what on earth was that about?”

“I won the bet.”

"You... made a bet... with a Roomba?"

“Yup. I said you’d pick the patisserie today, he said it’d be Greggs. I win.”

“Honestly, Crowley…” Aziraphale pouted indignantly. 

“You love me really.” Crowley tackled him into a hug. The angel turned his face away. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you fiend.”

“You doooooooo.” Crowley kissed his cheek fondly. Aziraphale squirmed, smiled, then relented and kissed him back. 

“Yes, you’re right. I do. I love you too, Crowley. You’re still a fiend though.”

Crowley released him from the hug and took his hand as they strolled from the park again. 

“I’ve changed my mind though, we’re going to the delicatessen instead.” He smiled smugly. Crowley sighed and flicked one of the pound coins back to Bob again, who vacuumed it up with a little rattling noise.


	27. Bad Cake Roomba!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley goes all drama noodle at the suggestion of taking part in community events but allows his angel to drag him along regardless, because who can say no to those eyes? Aziraphale's baking skills are improving, Crowley's horticultural skills get him some admiration, Bob gets grumpy and misbehaves, leaving Crowley in somewhat of an awkward predicament - how in heaven's name is he going to sort THIS one out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the "WI" stands for the "Women's Institute" - a British Institution at the heart of most small villages and towns, but all over the place really. Generally run by little old ladies, they have regular meetings, baking, arts and crafts events. Although not open to male presenting angels and demons, they do take part in village fetes and community events, so I created a fictional community fete somewhere near Aziraphale and Crowley in London (unlikely but this is fudge), for them to be invited along to.

“The WI?  _ Really?”  _ Crowley was whining and flung himself back on the sofa dramatically. 

“Crowley, you’ll disappoint Mrs. Stanley if you don’t come along, she invited us both to the fête.”

“Tell her I’m washing my hair, no… that I’m at the vet, stuck in a half shed skin…” He slithered into his serpent form and flipped upside down like a startled hognose snake, opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and played dead.

“Honestly Crowley, really.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I’m taking my Victoria sponge cake for the baking competition. You know I’ve been practising at baking, I think I’ve got the hang of it now. Why don’t you take a jar of that jam you made from your home grown strawberries? I bet that’d win a prize.” He nudged at Crowley’s prone form with his toe, turning him over. Crowley coiled a bit, flipped upside down again and carried on playing dead.

“Don’t be so dramatic dear.”

Crowley didn’t move.

“Oh well. Bob! There’s some rubbish to vacuum up in the lounge.”

Crowley surged up to full humanoid shape and height in a split second. “OI! I’m not rubbish!” He sniffed indignantly. “I’ll have you know I’m  _ trash _ . Classy trash.”

“Only when you wear those platform stripper heels and the leather mini skirt dear.”

“You love it.”

“Naturally.” Azirapahle pulled Crowlely in for a kiss just as Bob charged in to find the alleged mess he was supposed to clear up. He twirled in confusion to find nothing of the sort and beeped indignantly at them. Taking pity on him, Aziraphale snapped up a handful of crumbs and sprinkled them on the floor for him. 

* * *

Crowley had grudgingly agreed to come along to the summer fête organised by the Womens Institute but open to everyone. He’d brought some home grown cut blooms for the flower class, a jar of home made strawberry jam, which Aziraphale had also used in the making of his Victoria Sponge, and as a side to his fruit scones with clotted cream in the baking division. 

Aziraphale had also worked on a surprise cake for the decorated cake class, and had insisted that Bob and Lydia accompany them, as he wanted Bob to help present his decorated cake for the full effect. Crowley had reinstated Lydia’s trailer and festooned it with flowers again with a little sign saying “please take one.”

Mrs. Stanley immediately spotted the angel and demon as they entered the main tent that had been laid out in the park and bustled forward to greet them. 

“Oh Mister Crowley, Mister Fell, I’m so delighted you could make it! Oh, is that a Victoria sponge? How delightful. Irene said you’d entered the decorated cake class as well…?”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah, he did…” He winked then yelled out. “Release the cake roomba!”

Bob trundled out from where he’d been hiding behind Lydia and her little trailer. He was very carefully carrying a plate on his top the same size as himself. On top of that was a life size replica of Bob in cake form. There were appreciative gasps at the detail of the black and grey icing, even down to the two little icing eyes on top like Bob’s googly eyes. 

Crowley bent down and picked the cake up off Bob’s back to place it on the display table with the others. “Thanks, hellspawn” he murmured with a little smile. The local vicar bustled up to chat to Aziraphale as Mrs. Stanley and another grey haired lady whose name tag proclaimed her to be Doreen shanghaied Crowley. 

You really must come and meet Agatha, Maureen, Doris and Gladys, my dear. I’ve told them all about you…” She tugged at Crowley’s sleeve insistently as he urgently tried to whisper in Aziraphale’s ear while he was dragged away. 

“If I’m not back in ten minutes send a search and rescue party, Angel. I might not make it…” Then he was gone into the arts and crafts tent surrounded by a gaggle of grey haired octogenarians. 

It was some time before Aziraphale saw Crowley again, wild eyed and clutching a bag full of preserves foisted on him against his will. He slunk up to Aziraphale and hissed in his ear.

“Angel, you’re supposed to be  _ rescuing  _ me!”

Aziraphale’s reply was somewhat muffled: “But they have biscuits!”

“Some help  _ you  _ are. I had to listen to half an hour of Gladys wittering on about her hernia op and how Maureen’s grandson won the hundred metres at his school sports day. I almost fell into a damn coma of boredom. I swear if things don’t get less tedious around here I’m going to start doing demonic things and cause a food fight.”

“Don’t you dare, you fiend. Be  _ nice _ .”

Crowley whined piteously. “It’s exhausting being  _ nice _ . I hate it. It’s horrible. C’mon, lemme just do a little temptation. Get the vicar to call Agatha a toffee-nosed busybody or something, please…”

“You shall do no such thing, you dreadful demon. You can last another hour, then you can be as demonic as you like on the way home to get it out of your system. I’ll let you cause traffic jams and everything.”

“But there’s so much  _ potential  _ here, Angel. I mean they could be bitching over the veg section over whose marrow is biggest or who grew the tastiest cucumbers. There could be secateurs at dawn over the leeks. I could sow so much discord here it’d keep me going for  _ weeks!” _

“But you’d upset Mrs Stanley if you spoiled the day, and I know you wouldn’t want to do that, dear.”

“Ugh. Fine. Where’s Bob anyway?”

Azirphale pointed behind the cake table where Lydia sat, her trailer now empty of flowers, with a very disgruntled Bob sitting on the trailer instead. 

“He was beginning to get restless so I persuaded him that it’d be far more fun to take a ride on the trailer instead before he started getting into trouble.”

“Spoiling both all the demonic fun today aren’t you?” Crowley groused. He discreetly nudged Bob who obediently burped out a bee who buzzed around a particularly obnoxious loud lady who had been disparaging about Aziraphale’s Bob replica cake, until she fled the judging tent squealing. Once she’d left, the bee settled happily on a bouquet of alliums. Crowley winked at Bob. 

* * *

The tent was cleared while the judges made the rounds. So Angel, Demon and the appliances went to explore the arts and crafts tables. Crowley had to restrain Aziraphale from buying far too many ridiculous pastel floral decorations that would have completely undermined his entire minimalist aesthetic of the flat, and patiently explain that chintz went out of fashion several decades ago. 

Crowley eventually dragged Aziraphale from the crafts tent and found a hog roast sandwich trailer, buying them one each, a big floury soft bun stuffed with slow roasted shreds of pork and stuffing with apple sauce and dripping with gravy, plus some crisp crunchy crackling on the side. Watching Aziraphale tucking in to the succulent treat cheered the demon up enormously. He then indulged his angel in some artisan ice cream, Cornish clotted cream with raspberry swirl and a flake. He was so enraptured with watching Aziraphale slurp his ice cream they almost missed the tannoy call to say that judging was finished and for entrants to please make their way back to the exhibition tent for the results of the cake and floral classes. 

Aziraphale was disappointed to see that the Bob replica cake had only come fourth, admittedly behind some stunningly complex decorated confections, but his traditional Victoria sponge had won a first prize. The scones had taken fifth place. Crowley was pleasantly surprised to find that his strawberry jam had come second, but his selection of cut roses had won a first, his lilies a third, and the gladioli another first place. 

Crowley knelt down to pick Bob off Lydia’s trailer to let him have another free trundle around now that the important bit was over and the risk of him charging about and knocking tables over was abated, then filled her trailer up again with their prize winning entries to take home. 

In the Bentley on the way home, Aziraphale noticed some rich twenty-somethings in blinged up Lamborghinis and Ferraris revving engines and showing off as they were wont to do when they came to the UK in the summer with their supercars, all banging exhausts, screeching tyres and annoying the residents. Crowley flicked a glance at the angel, who gave a subtle smile in response. 

Crowley snapped as he wove through traffic. With each supercar he passed, things happened. A tyre blew out on a Ferrari, a piston launched through an engine block on an Aston Martin, the timing belt failed on a Lamborghini, and the electrics failed on a Bugatti. (Although that one wasn’t necessarily the demon’s fault). Crowley couldn’t resist a giggle. He’d been itching to let off steam all day with some proper demonic activity, and there was nothing like some pompous, self-important billionaires being taken down a peg or two for letting loose. 

* * *

They got home and while Aziraphale lifted Lydia and her trailer from the Bentley, Crowley picked up Bob from the other side. “Aziraphale? Bob and I are just going for a little walk ok? See you in a bit.” Aziraphale nodded, preoccupied with safely getting the cakes and flowers from the car. 

“Of course, darling. See you later.”

Crowley whistled and Bob scuttled along to catch up as he headed toward Mount Street, checking his watch. They’d still be open. The real reason he hadn’t wanted to go to the fête today was that he was supposed to be collecting something from Pragnell Jewellers. Fortunately he still had half an hour left before they closed. 

Bob was clearly still in a mood over not being allowed freedom to get up to shenanigans at the fête earlier, much like Crowley, and he could pick up on his little minion’s mood. 

“Look, I’m sorry Bob, I’m as frustrated as you are.”

_ ‘Beep’ _ , Bob pointed out. Crowley nodded.

“Well yeah, I got to mess with the billionaire boys on the way home. Maybe we can go to the park so you can chase some ducks after this, will that do you?”

Bob gave the robotic equivalent to a shrug, not entirely mollified.

They arrived at the place and Crowely snapped as he went in so that they wouldn’t bother objecting to him bringing Bob in with him and think it perfectly normal for a guy to saunter into a jewellers with a vacuum cleaner walking to heel. 

Bob idled around the shop floor giving it a free vacuum while Crowley talked to the assistant and after a little while, and a considerable sum of money had changed hands on his black credit card, he was handed a very small and discreet bag. He whistled for Bob and headed out, diverting to the park so Bob could chase some pigeons, as they weren’t close to the duck park. 

Crowley sat on the bench and inspected his purchase, turning the little box to and fro as the jewels caught the sunlight. It was a small gold ring in the shape of a coiled serpent with glittering ruby eyes. He took it from the box as Bob scooted back through a rapidly expanding cloud of pigeon feathers that had been shed in an explosion of panicked birds. 

“Look at what I’ve got for uncle Aziraphale, Bob…” Crowley held it out for his little minion to see.

Unfortunately, Bob didn’t stop in his onward charge and ran over Crowley’s foot, causing him to drop the ring, which was then promptly sucked up by the little vacuum. 

“BOB!!!!!” Crowley shrieked. “NO! Nononononono, spit it out!” He tried to leap at the little vac to pin him down, but Bob beeped in alarm and scooted faster away, Crowley scrambling after him in a panic. 

After a frantic loop of the bench, Crowely flung himself on top of Bob to tackle him to a halt and turned him over, hands shaking. “Come on, reverse motors, give it back! Spit it out you little bastard!” 

Bob beeped and whirred his motors, coughing out a cloud of dust and grit but nothing else. He hadn’t sent the ring to wherever he stored things he wanted to keep, he’d sent it to the same place he sent regular dirt. Crowley set him down again on the path and stared at him, completely lost for words. Bob beeped softly in apology. 

“That was sixty nine thousand pounds y’know. Hand made, for me.”

Bob beeped again and fidgeted with his whiskers awkwardly. 

Crowley put his head in his hands as he sat on the grass, wondering what the hell he was going to do now.

“Welp. Let’s get you home. I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day you understand.”

_ ‘Beep.’ _

“Right.” 

Crowley sighed and got to his feet, brushing the dirt off his trousers despondently, and didn’t so much saunter home as slump along dejectedly. Bob wisely kept his distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next week's chapter is called "Damage Control", wherein Crowlely has to think on his feet and inadvertently sets a chain of events in action that he really didn't mean to. Is it too late to move to Alpha Centauri? Time to call in a favour from Eric the Disposable Demon...


	28. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley goes on a surreptitious heist to try to get his ring back from Gabriel's office. Things do not go as planned. Stuff happens. Crowley considers emigrating to Australia. 
> 
> Lydia and Bob have a domestic over "Gardener's World" on the TV, Bob nearly spoils a surprise, Eric the Disposable Demon is called upon for assistance, and Bob gets mischevious with him 0.03 seconds after Crowley leaves him in Eric's care...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my regular muse, @Stan_Gaiman on twitter for one of the lines near the beginning of this fic, or rather the prompt to use it in this context. Sorry you had to wait a few weeks.

Gabriel strode into his office, sat in his chair and wheeled it under the desk. Something was blocking his feet. He shoved his toes forward, wondering what it was. 

“OW!” 

Gabriel wheeled backwards in alarm, and his violet eyes met a pair of slitted golden ones in the gloom under his desk. 

“What the…?”

“Uh. Hi Gabe?” Crowley replied awkwardly, shuffling out from his hiding place under the desk. 

“You’re that… that, uh… thing, the um…”

“Demon,” Crowley supplied helpfully.

“Yes! Why is a demon underneath my desk?” Gabriel queried, warily, peering underneath in case there were more.

“Ah ha! Don’t you mean why is _this_ demon under your desk, eh?” Crowley tried a sly wink. Gabriel looked confused. Crowley sighed. 

A thought process finally completed its journey from Gabriel’s brain to his mouth. 

“CROWLEY!”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Crowley admitted.

“You are without doubt the worst demon I’ve ever heard of.”

“But you _have_ heard of me” Crowley grinned.

“Why are you here?”

“Well…” Crowley began, thinking quickly, “I bring a message, from down below. Top secret of course, couldn’t be trusted to the usual channels, so they sent me.” He winked conspiratorially. 

“They?” Gabriel responded.

“ _You_ know, small, angry, buzzes a lot…”

“OH! Oh… um, yes yes, er, just keep it down a bit would you?”

“My lips are sealed, mum’s the word and all that, yeah.” Crowley waited awkwardly, buying time. 

“So?”

“So?”

“So what’s the message?”

“Oh, yeah… well. _You know who_ wants to meet for dinner, next week, Wednesday, um, 8pm. Sushi.”

Gabriel pulled a face. _“Dinner?_ You mean Beelzebub consumes gross matter as well?”

“Yup. Especially fish.” (This was, in fact, true. Beelzebub liked any food that their flies were attracted to, so pretty much anything, except McDonald’s. Even demons have standards.)

Crowley’s roving eye finally fell upon a tell-tale glint of metal near the wastepaper basket. He miracled a pen to roll off the desk and deftly bent down to scoop it up, grabbing his real target from the floor by the bin at the same time. He handed Gabriel his pen back. 

“Awfully dusty in here, isn’t it? You really should take it up with the cleaners.” With a bright smile and a tip of the head, Crowley sauntered out. Instead of hitting the lift button for the ground floor, he stabbed the button for the sub levels anxiously, and as soon as the doors opened again, ran hell for leather to Beelzebub’s office. 

* * *

Beelzebub glared at Crowley over a pile of paperwork, skeptical. 

“Dinner?”

“Yup.”

 _“Gabriel…_ asked _me_ to… _dinner?”_

“Yeah.”

“That’s… unlikely,” Beez was certain something untoward was going on.

“Yeah, well, he found out you like ‘gross matter’ so thought he’d give it a go. Sushi, next Wednesday at 8.”

“This had better not be some kind of prank, Crowley.”

“No! I swear it’s not, straight-up. I literally just came from his office. He didn’t dare send the message via normal channels, for obvious reasons.” Crowley hoped like hell that sounded plausible for whatever hellish arrangement the two of them had. 

“Riiight… You’re dismissed. Unless there was anything else?”

“Nope all good, cheers, ciao, laters…” Crowley edged backwards towards the door, ducked out, then sprinted for the lift again, frantically dialling Aziraphale’s favourite sushi restaurant to make sure the booking was in the diary, regardless of their actual availability. Now he had to get home in time to cook dinner for Aziraphale.

* * *

Crowley left Celestial HQ with a sigh of relief. It had been no picnic to sneak his way into Gabriel’s office, he’d been rummaging through drawers and filing cabinets trying to find the lost ring when he heard the footsteps approaching and had dived under the desk. Fortunately Crowley was good at thinking on his feet, he hoped he’d got away with it. At least he’d found the ring. 

When he got in, Lydia was sitting in front of the TV watching Gardnener’s World on BBC2. Bob was nowhere to be seen. Aziraphale wasn’t back from the bookshop yet. 

“Lydia? Where’s Bob?”

The robomower spun around slowly and pointed at the sofa. Crowley got down on hands and knees to peer underneath. Bob flashed an apologetic blue LED at him. He sighed. 

“You can come out now, kid, I’m not angry at you. I got the ring back.”

Bob rotated a quarter turn each way as if shaking the head he didn’t have, and stayed put. 

“Not coming out?”

Bob shook again.

“Did you argue with Lydia over which TV channel to watch?”

A pause, then a quiet beep and a blue LED flashed. 

“You know you could go and watch the other TV in the bedroom? You _know_ Lydia gets ‘ _Gardener’s World’_ today. Don’t go bickering over something so silly. Were you changing the channel back again?”

Bob blinked an LED, shamefaced.

“So she chased you under the sofa?”

Bob blinked again.

“Dude. Don’t wind her up, that’s just rude. C’mon, I’ll put _‘Mythbusters’_ on in the bedroom for you.”

* * *

Crowley was torn between sneaking out on Wednesday to watch from a discreet distance to see how the double-blind date between Gabriel and Beelzebub went, or hightailing it for the hills and getting as far away from the potential blast-zone as possible before they figured out it was him. His nerves over the impending disaster did not go unnoticed by Aziraphale. 

“You’ve not been yourself recently, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured as they snuggled on the sofa. 

“Nnnggghhh”

“Pardon?”

Crowley shrugged. “Work stuff.” He paused. “How d’you feel about taking a holiday to Australia before Wednesday?”

Aziraphale stared at him. Crowley attempted to look innocent. 

_“Please_ tell me there isn’t another armageddon in progress.”

“Not exactly.”

_“Crowley…”_

The demon met his gaze and relented. “I might have set up Gabriel and Beelzebub on a blind date by accident.”

“By _accident?_ How do you do such a thing by _accident?”_

“It just sort of… happened.” Crowley shrugged.

“Crowley, inviting two people on a blind date does not ‘just sort of happen’. What did you _do?”_

“I’d rather not go into it. It’s done now anyway, They’re going to your favourite sushi restaurant on Wednesday evening, so maybe best to give it a wide berth just in case the excreta hits the extractor, if you get what I mean.”

Aiziraphale looked blank.

“Before the shit hits the fan, Angel.”

Aziraphale sighed. “You really are a terrible demon, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Most demons are about creating discord and chaos, but not generally by trying to make two people fall in love.”

Crowley snorted. “Not sure it’d be love, more like mutual fascinated loathing, but they definitely have _something_ going on.” 

“Well, let’s wait and see, shall we?”

“Can we do that from a safe distance?”

“We shall do no such thing.”

Crowley stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not suggesting we actually get close enough to _watch_ are you?” 

“It might be entertaining.”

“It might be _lethal.”_

“They might get on like a house on fire.”

“Oh absolutely, I agree with you on that one - have you ever _seen_ a house fire? People screaming and running everywhere, explosions….”

“They might have fun.”

“Pretty sure Beelzebub doesn’t know the _meaning_ of the word _‘fun’_ , any more than that uptight twat Gabriel does.”

“Crowley…”

The demon met his love’s gaze.

Aziraphale continued. “...Doesn’t it give you some kind of hope to know we may not be the only ones? We aren’t meant to be compatible and yet look at us, darling. No one in heaven or hell should have thought that we would be suitable for one another. We are the last people in the universe who should be judgemental about this kind of thing.”

“Not being judgemental, Aziraphale, I just kind of like my head to remain on my shoulders, because if they find out it was me, both our bosses are the kind to hold grudges for a literally inhuman length of time.”

“Very well then, I wouldn’t want you doing anything you felt uncomfortable with, darling. So, should we do something else on Wednesday that isn’t in the proximity of the potential fallout zone?”

Crowley thought about it. Bob appeared from underneath the sofa and looked at him. After a moment he beeped a suggestion. Crowley hissed at him.

“Shhh! Not now.”

“What was that, dear?” Aziraphale felt he was missing something. Bob began doing circles on the rug. Not circles - _rings._ Crowley hoped that the angel wouldn’t get the idea.

“Go to _bed,_ Hellspawn. Grown-up time.”

Bob winked an LED at him and scooted off to his charging port, far too sassy for the demon’s comfort. 

“What was that all about, Crowley?”

“Bob just being a brat as usual. I know, let’s have a midweek getaway, I have an idea…”

* * *

Eric rang the doorbell nervously and fidgeted as he waited, staring at the snake doorbell cover and wondering if it was giving him a funny look. It looked like it might bite him. Maybe it could, you never knew with other demons and their possessions. He took a hesitant half step sideways away from it. 

Crowley answered the door with a wide grin plastered across his face. 

“Eric! Just the demon I wanted to see! Come on in. Can I get you a drink?”

“Um…”

“Tea? Coffee? Squash? Something fizzy? Something alcoholic? Actually no, best not if you’re in charge of these two minions of chaos. Energy drinks perhaps, there’s a load of monsters in the fridge. Not literal monsters, that’d be like the canteen fridge in hell, just the caffeinated liquid kind.”

“Um. Coffee?”

“Sure, follow me.” Crowley led the way to the kitchen, pointing out the other areas of the apartment as they went. “There’s a guest bedroom if you want to have a go at sleeping, help yourself to anything in the fridge and freezer you fancy, except for the cookie dough ice cream - that’s Aziraphale’s and he _will_ threaten you with a flaming sword if you eat it.”

Crowley brewed a coffee for Eric then showed him around the rest of the apartment, including the spelling board in the study for the appliances to communicate easier if needed. “They like a walk every day down the park, Lydia sometimes likes to play with dogs, and she’ll generally help you keep an eye on Bob. If you get harassed by a swarm of bees, it means he’s in trouble…” Crowley took in the disposable demon’s puzzled expression and sighed. “... Don’t ask, just accept it.”

Eric nodded uncertainly. “So, um… Lydia’s sunbathing in the sunspot in the plant room but where’s Bob?”

Crowley looked up. Eric followed his gaze. Bob flashed his LEDs at them from the ceiling cheerfully and beeped.

“Well he _says_ he was chasing spiders, but really he was stalking you.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll be fine,” Crowley responded happily, patting him on the back. “We’ll only be away for 4 days.”

“Where are you going?”

“‘S a secret, surprise for my Angel, romantic getaway.” Crowley was not about to admit it’s because he didn’t want Beelzebub to be able to squeeze the information out of Eric if things went wrong, it was safer for him not to know. Plausible deniability and all that.

Aziraphale came through from the bedroom carrying a suitcase. “Should we get going, Crowley? You said the taxi would be here soon, I know you said you didn’t want the Bentley staying in the airport car park.”

“Yeah, sure. Look, Eric, I’ve written down some instructions on the list stuck to the fridge, you’ve got my mobile number, you’ll be fine - easier than working in the hellhound kennels anyway. Have fun, see you in a few days.” He turned to Bob on the ceiling. Lydia had trundled through to see what the commotion was about. 

“And you two, be good for Eric, ok? He’s got permission to revoke TV privileges for both of you if you misbehave, so bear that in mind.” With a grin and a nod to the disposable demon, Crowley picked up his suitcase and headed off with Aziraphale in tow. 

After the door closed, Eric looked nervously up at Bob, still sitting on the ceiling in defiance of gravity. Bob winked at him with one LED, snapped, and disappeared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOUD NOISES!!!! Big stuff happening next week, I have an absolute MONSTER CHAPTER prepared for you all. Guest writer CynSyn has joined in to write a bit of Ineffable Bureaucracy date night stuff. Artist FreedomAttack has done an adorable illustration for Crowley's very epic moment (which isn't what you think it's going to be). It's a much longer chapter than normal as we will be swapping between Crowley and Aziraphale on holiday, Gabriel and Beelzebub and their kind of blind date, then Eric and the appliances. 
> 
> Strap yourselves in, it's a big one.


	29. Shenanigans, Sushi, and Surprises, ILLUSTRATED by FreedomAttack, co-written by CynSyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WELP, it's the BIG ONE! This is a LONG chapter as there's a lot going on. **Guest writer CynSyn** provided some ineffable bureaucracy date fun, **guest artist FreedomAttack** illustrated Crowley's shenanigans. 
> 
> Eric is looking after Bob and Lydia, and trying not to panic while keeping them entertained. Beelzebub and Gabriel have a puzzle to work out, Gabriel tries out alcohol with interesting results, and of course our angel and demon are on a romantic holiday together. Where have they gone and what does Crowley have planned for Aziraphale? Also, Crowley holds a grudge against a long-dead Italian renaissance artist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest writer **[CynSyn on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/AMadness2Method)** contributed a section on Gabriel and Beelzebub's date. Find her on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/amadness2method) and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/amadness2method) as well.
> 
> Art by **[FreedomAttack (Instagram)](https://www.instagram.com/freedomattack_thereal)** or find her on [ Twitter here.](https://twitter.com/Free00746552)

Eric looked around warily, stalking from room to room, checking under furniture and up on the ceiling in each room trying to find where Bob had disappeared to. It wouldn’t be the best first impression to lose him on his first day, not thirty seconds after Crowley had left the house. 

As he went from room to room, growing increasingly panicked, he eventually heard a peculiar sound - motors revving in a rhythmic pattern like laughter. He moved back toward the kitchen and that’s when he saw it at last - the glass fronted climate controlled wine cabinet. Bob had snapped himself inside and was watching Eric from behind the glass, evidently finding it highly amusing. Eric gave him a stern look, opened the cabinet and lifted him out. 

“Look, you’ve got me for a few days and I’ve got all sorts of cool fun things planned to do with you two, so unless you want me to forget it all and just do boring things, you can quit messing about, right?”

Bob beeped an apology.

“Right.” Eric put Bob on the floor and stood up. “I’m putting some popcorn on, how d’you like the idea of watching Robocop with me?”

* * *

Aziraphale looked up at the British Airways check in desk with interest, before a uniformed ground crew member stepped up to escort them to the first class lounge. “Rome?” he asked Crowley quietly as the concierge bustled off to fetch their drinks. 

“Yeah, thought it’d be a nice short break, a nice getaway.” The concierge came back with two complimentary flutes of champagne and indicated the buffet of canapes and other delectable treats, inviting them to help themselves. 

“Do you suppose Eric is getting on alright with Lydia and Bob?”

“Ehh, he’ll be fine, Aziraphale, he’s looked after them before, besides, Lydia can help keep Bob in line. Try to relax, love.” He reached over with his chopsticks to select a delicacy and fed it to Aziraphale over the table, revelling in the ecstatic little wiggles that the angel exhibited at the flavour. 

They relaxed in the VIP lounge for another hour or two before a very opulent 1st class flight experience to Rome, with more complimentary champagne, and were met at the airport by a limousine with liveried chauffeur to take them to the hotel. Aziraphale gasped as they pulled up outside the ancient building. The sign over the door proclaimed it to be the “Hotel Eden” on Via Ludovisi. 

“Oh Crowley, this is beautiful!” Azirpahale gasped. “Did you choose it solely because of the name?”

“Nope, I chose it because it’s one of the highest rated five star hotels in Rome, one of the oldest, _and_ because of the name.” He winked at Aziraphale. “We first met in the garden of Eden, and we had our first meal together in Rome. I thought it’d made the perfect romantic getaway.”

“Oh my dear…” Aziraphale beamed at him, and pulled him into an embrace and a kiss, until the chauffeur opened the door to invite them to step out with a discreet cough. They were ushered in and to a private lift to their top floor Bellavista penthouse suite. Their personal butler showed them the terrace and telescope for taking in the sights of the city’s skyline, then set about unpacking their bags for them and hanging their clothes in the walk-in wardrobe. 

Crowley admired the beautiful display of flowers on the table as Aziraphale explored the fully stocked bar, on which was an icy cold complimentary bottle of champagne and two flutes ready for them. The spacious marble bathroom had a separate walk-in shower and large circular bathtub. 

Aziraphale wandered around the spacious apartment, a modern edifice that had been built on top of the older building below - the only accommodation on the top floor, which it shared with the restaurant and bar. “Crowley this really is splendid - look at the view!”

“Yeah, last time I stayed here was just after they first opened in 1889, it was the first hotel in Rome to feature a lift, electricity, heating and running water. Been posh since the start. Thought it’d be a nice place to spoil you, Angel.” He pulled Aziraphale into a kiss as the butler discreetly withdrew and closed the door gently behind him.

* * *

Eric finished laying out the assault course. Two parallel lines side by side - one a trail of leaves for mulching, the other a trail of sugar for vacuuming. It wove around the apartment, under tables, up and over a wooden ramp, around some stolen traffic cones in a weave-pole pattern like a dog agility course, over a plank laid over a scaffolding pole to turn it into a see-saw, then some more slaloms before going across a finish line marked by a ribbon of toilet paper. He stepped back to appreciate his work. 

“Ok, all done! You can come out now!”

Bob and Lydia poked their noses out from the bathroom where they’d been waiting while Eric prepared their surprise. Bob gave an excited beep and zoomed up to the start line. Lydia followed curiously. 

“So - race to the finish. Lyds, you’re on leaf mulching, Bob, you’re on sugar vacuuming.”

At this, Lydia beeped in alarm, but Eric didn’t notice the nuance and thought she was just excited. He carried on. “I’ll be timing you, winner gets to choose tonight’s movie, and where we go for tomorrow’s walk. Ready?”

Against her better judgement, Lydia beeped reluctantly. Bob beeped with rather more enthusiasm. 

“GO!” Eric hit the timer on his stopwatch as the pair of appliances charged off. Lydia with blades engaged and lowered, leaving a trail of mulched leaves in her wake, Bob sucking up the sugar as fast as he could. They wove around furniture, between the purloined traffic cones, Lydia was just ahead of Bob as she got on the see-saw, and was over the axle when Bob got on the leading edge, meaning that as she plummeted down the other side, lifting the leading edge, she inadvertently catapulted Bob several feet ahead, with a whooping beep of excitement as he flew through the air and landed with a clatter that made Eric wince and reconsider how sensible that design choice had been. 

Fortunately unharmed, Bob charged ahead, while Lydia put on an extra burst of speed along the straight, leaving skid marks from her tyres on the concrete floor. She had the extra straight line speed, but Bob made up for that with increased manouverability in the slalom sections, making them a fairly even match. 

It was a close call, but Lydia broke through the toilet paper finish line a fraction ahead of Bob with a triumphant beep as Bob grumbled behind in a huff, but still feeling full of energy from his sugar rush. He span around and began to do the course again backwards, vacuuming up the shredded leaves that Lydia had left in her wake.

* * *

After settling in, Aziraphale and Crowley left the hotel to take in the sights, although many of the older tourist spots looked nothing like they’d remembered them. Aziraphale lamented the loss of so much beautiful and functional Roman infrastructure, how the aqueduct system was so run down, and how it wasn’t half as well organised as it had been in the City’s heyday, having devolved into a kind of organised chaos. 

Crowley discreetly ensured that anywhere they wanted to visit was miraculously temporarily experiencing a lull in tourists, and got them to the front of every queue. While wandering around a museum, they stopped to laugh at some of the inaccurate descriptions. 

“Oh look, it says that silver wine goblet belonged to Gaius Marius - he’d never have owned something that garish, totally not his style. Perhaps someone left it among his personal effects. Oh, and that mosaic was _definitely_ not by Antonius, absolutely not his workmanship, they’ve misattributed it.”

They moved into the next gallery and Crowley halted in his tracks, then quickly turned and tried to block Aziraphale’s view. “Nope, nothing interesting in this one, let’s move on…”

“Crowley, don’t be silly, there’s lots of interesting paintings and sculptures in there… oh!” He peered around Crowley with interest, then slowly and inexorably pushed him aside, the demon’s shoes squealing across the floor in protest. “Crowley, you are so silly,” the angel chided gently with a teasing smile, watching as Crowley blushed to his ears. 

Aziraphale walked up to the painting that Crowley had been trying to hide from him, taking it in with interest. 

“Angel, please…” Crowley whined, piteously. “Can we go?”

“Oh no, love, I have to appreciate this one properly…” He turned to look Crowley up and down critically, then turned back to the oil painting to compare. “He didn’t get your nose quite right though, dear.”

“That’s because he was _drunk,_ Aziraphale,” Crowley grumbled, staring at the floor. 

“And he definitely didn’t get _that_ bit accurate either…” Aziraphale continued, eyes drifting lower. 

“That’s it, I’m out.” Crowley declared, and walked toward the exit before anyone else noticed the similarities between him and an oil painting a couple of hundred years old. He was halted by a gentle pressure on his sleeve before a kiss was planted on his cheek. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling, you look _far_ more handsome than some silly old painting. Come on, let’s look at the rest in the gallery before we carry on.” Crowley rolled his eyes but acquiesced, flinging a sour look toward the offending painting as they passed it again. Ok, maybe his hair _did_ look good in it after all, even if the other bits didn’t. 

* * *

Beelzebub sat down at the table to await Gabriel. They didn’t appreciate being made to wait, especially not after sending _Crowley_ of all demons to set up this meeting. They decided the most demonic thing they could do, short of walking out, would be to order the most expensive dishes on the menu and begin eating before their dining companion ever showed up, then stick him with the bill.

As Beelzebub sat chewing, they noticed a familiar flash of violet and dove grey through a window. They smiled, sighing softly as they watched him walk through the door, speaking to the host. Upon realizing their face was betraying them, they quickly shoved a large bit of wasabi into their mouth to force a proper expression of pained apathy as Gabriel was led towards their table.

Gabriel scowled at the way his shoe clung briefly to the floor with each step. He never did understand why this particular type of dust was such a sticky mess. It hardly made sense to him, but then again, not much about what had been happening in his office for the last several months did.

The archangel was pleasantly surprised to find that his current companion had not waited for him to arrive before obtaining _gross matter_. That would make this easier for him to avoid.

“You’re late,” Beelzebub grumbled, picking at a piece of sushi.

“Funny thing happened on the way out of the office,” Gabriel said, hoping to let the matter drop.

“What is it with your lot and vinegary rice?” Beelzebub asked, flicking a stray grain across the table as the Archangel sat down.

Gabriel brushed it off of his shoulder with a scowl. “Vinegary rice? What are you talking about?”

“That’s what sushi _is_ ,” Beelzebub said. “It’s vinegary rice with stuff.”

“I don’t… I don’t care,” Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But what do you mean?”

“I mean your rogue angel spends a lot of time in this place. I assume it’s an angel _thing_ , since you picked this place for us to meet in.”

“ _I_ didn’t pick this place. _You_ did.” Gabriel’s brows furrowed. “When have you ever known me to consume gross matter?”

Beelzebub tilted their head at a slight angle, arching an eyebrow with a quirk of their lip at Gabriel.

Gabriel shot a condescending look back in return. “You _know_ what I mean.”

Beelzebub crossed their arms, slumping back in their chair. They ran the tip of their tongue along between their teeth and lip, icy blue eyes searching for deception in the Archangel’s expression. After a moment, they uttered a single word.

“ _Crowley._ ”

They stood up from the table.

“Where are you going?” Gabriel said, sounding far more distressed than intended.

“Come with me,” the Prince of Hell said. “I need to make a call.”

The pair made their way through the restaurant to step around to a more secluded area of pavement.

“Right, give us your mobile,” Beelzebub said, patting about Gabriel’s hip to find his pockets. “I don’t want Crowley to recognize my number and not answer.”

Gabriel swatted their hand away. “I can get it. Just a second,” he said, reaching into his jacket to pull out a ridiculously large translucent device. There was the idea of the sound of the color violet shimmering along the sides. He glared at the rogue specks of pink glitter here and there, scratching at them with his thumbnail before handing it to Beelzebub.

Beelzebub snorted a laugh. “You have glitter on your mobile.”

“It’s _everywhere_ ,” Gabriel groaned. “I can’t get rid of it all!”

Beelzebub held the unwieldy rectangle in their small hands, watching as it flickered to life. “I’d say this is compensating for something, but we both know that’s not true,” they said, turning it over. “Look at this thing. It’s ridiculous. You are such a pretentious prick, do you realize that?”

“If you’re jealous because you only have cans and string downstairs,” Gabriel shrugged, “That’s not my problem.”

Beelz couldn’t even dignify that with a response before turning away to dial Crowley’s number. After a few rings, the all too familiar message played through the earpiece. At the beep, Beelzebub earned a few beeps of their own. After an unintelligible string of growling profanity, they regained composure enough to leave a more comprehensible message.

“All right,” Beelzebub snarled into the phone, “Listen up, Noodle-Dick. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I _know_ what you’re doing and it ends _now_. Pick up the phone!”

They waited for approximately 66.6 seconds before grunting in frustration and handing the phone back to Gabriel. They pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out.

Gabriel grimaced as he put the phone back in his pocket. "I _really_ wish you wouldn't smoke."

"What's it to you? I'm a demon. Fire and brimstone, yeah? I’ve been smoking since before these ever existed."

"I know," Gabriel said, looking off to the side as he let out a slow breath. “But it's like kissing an ashtray. I don't really care too much for that."

Beelzebub narrowed their eyes, considering for a moment. Huffing a breath through their nose, they tapped the cigarette back into the pack, crushing it in their hand and dropping it on the ground.

"Aren't you going to pick that up?" Gabriel asked.

Beelz shook their head. "I'm a demon, not a genie. You don't get _all_ your wishes."

The corner of Gabriel’s mouth lifted in the hint of a grin as he leaned over to pick up the discarded pack. His eyebrows shot up at the sharp thump on his backside.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gabriel said as he spun around, his cheeks red.

“Just checking to see if you’re ripe.”

Gabriel glared glaringly down at the Prince of Hell. “Well?” He asked expectantly.

Beelzebub worried the corner of their lip before grabbing both ends of the Archangel’s scarf to pull him down to their eye level. “You’re rotten to the core,” they said, rubbing the tips of their noses together before leaning the rest of the way in for a kiss.

* * *

Eric was looking lost. The sales assistant walked up, not quite sure why the young gentleman had a robo mower trailing behind him and a Roomba tucked under his arm. 

“Can I help you?” She asked, brightly. 

“Uh, yeah, I need a harness and lead, um, to fit this…” He held Bob up by way of explanation. 

The assistant, whose name tag read “Pets At Home: Indira” blinked in polite incomprehension. 

“You’d like a pet harness and lead… for your vacuum cleaner?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I see…” (She didn’t.)

“He keeps scooting off and getting into mischief. I think he ate too much sugar earlier so he zoomed off at the park and started chasing squirrels up trees. I had to climb twenty foot up an oak tree to bring him back again.”

“Riiiight…” She scanned the shelves trying to think of a solution. “May I see your vacuum cleaner, sir?” She held out her hands. “It’s ok, I won’t hurt it.”

“Him,” corrected Eric. 

“Sorry, Him. Does he have a name?” Indira humoured the peculiar young man.

“Bob.”

“Ok, let’s see, hi Bob,” she smiled, taking him gently from Eric’s hands. She turned him over to take a look. “Maybe you don’t need the harness, you can just clip a lead onto his housing somewhere? Look, there’s a loop here…” she pointed to the little tow hitch that Aziraphale had miracled up so that Bob could tow the trailer with plants around the house. “Would that work?”

“Oh, yeah, great idea, thanks.”

Indira sold him an extendible flexi lead, which she wouldn’t normally recommend for dog owners, but this was definitely not a dog, gave him a smile and a wave as he left. She only wished he hadn’t been the weirdest customer she’d ever had to deal with. The late evening closing shift definitely got more weirdos. 

* * *

After the museum, Crowley took them on a short amble that led them to the Waldorf Astoria Cavalieri hotel. They headed up to La Pergola restaurant on the top floor with its panoramic view of Rome and the Vatican. 

“This looks nice,” Aziraphale commented as the Maître D’ showed them to their table with a smile. The restaurant could double as a museum in any other context. Rare tapestries, paintings, sculptures, and blown glass adorned the walls and shelves, the ambience was sublime.

“Yeah, Rome’s first and only three Michelin starred restaurant. You normally have to book four months in advance but a cancellation just happened.” Crowley winked with a grin. 

“Oh _Crowley,_ did you spoil someone’s evening just to get us a table?”

“Oh no, quite the opposite - the wife went into labour, so they get something better than an evening at a restaurant. Gonna be really easy for her too, she got a bit blessed.” He grinned at his angel. “I don’t have to stop doing the Arrangement if I don’t want to.”

 _“Crowley…”_ Aziraphale had that soft tender tone that turned Crowley into a molten little puddle of embarrassed demon. He squirmed and inspected the menu to hide his blushing face. 

For appetizers, Aziraphale ordered the lobster in spicy crust on almond cream with cherries marinated in vervain and Turkish rose, while Crowley chose the marinated buffalo meat with smoked ricotta. He watched, rapt, as his angel devoured the delicate lobster dish with happy little moans of delight. 

The Sommelier, Marco, suggested a 1945 Pétrus, which went down beautifully, before recommending an equally rare vintage Italian wine from their cellar of over 53,000 bottles, to follow. 

“Mind if I order the main course for you, Angel?” Crowley murmured in Aziraphale’s ear, with a tender kiss to his cheek. 

“Oh, did you have something special in mind? I was tempted to try the loin of lamb.”

“Nah, something better, I had heard that the _Faggotelli La Pergola,_ stuffed pasta in a carbonara sauce, came especially recommended, but I emailed the chef earlier and requested something special for us instead.”

Aziraphale did a delighted little wiggle in his seat. “I do love when you surprise me, darling, I’m all yours, go ahead.”

Crowley tried not to smile too much at his angel’s choice of words, given his plans today, and beckoned the attentive waiter over to whisper in his ear in fluent Italian. The waiter nodded politely and withdrew, just as Crowley felt his pocket vibratre as his silent mobile phone buzzed with a message. He withdrew it to glance at the screen, his expression briefly concerned.

_“Um, Boss just left a kind of angry message on your answerphone, no idea what they mean, I was too scared to answer. Bob got stuck up a tree but I got him down again, but he’s sulking now because Lydia wanted to watch ‘Pride and Prejudice’ instead of ‘Pride and Prejudice and Zombies’ and now they’re not talking and he’s on the ceiling again.”_

Crowley thought for a moment and texted back:  
  
_“Don’t answer the phone, and don’t answer the door either, if Beez turns up claim ignorance.”_

Eric pinged straight back.

_“I AM ignorant, what’s going on?”_

Crowley sighed. 

_“You don’t want to know, trust me on this.”_

With that, he pocketed his phone again to smile at Aziraphale as the dish of oysters arrived at the table, just in time to see his angel tear up at the memory of their first meal together in this very city.

* * *

Gabriel wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up sitting on a bench overlooking a particularly busy street of pubs and nightclubs, sharing a bottle of saké purloined from the sushi restaurant with Beelzebub as they watched drunken humans staggering down the street from one club to another, but the demon appeared to enjoy this bit of people watching, so who was he to spoil their fun? 

Beelzebub giggled as a particularly drunken human decided to have an argument with a street sign. 

“Why do they do this, again?” Gabriel sighed in exasperation. He watched two girls in very short skirts and bare feet, carrying their stilettos in their hands and supporting each other as they wobbled down the pavement. They kept insisting “No I love _YOU_ more!” at each other with increasing volume as each tried to outdo the other. Gabriel certainly wasn’t used to seeing that kind of expression of love. 

“Humans are funny when they’re drunk. They do stupid shit like decide to get on a plane to Amsterdam because they happened to bring their passport out as ID when they went clubbing, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Then they wake up in the Netherlands with a hangover and no idea how they got there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and more interesting stuff sometimes. Don’t even have to tempt them half the time.”

“Do they ever get drunk and do good stuff instead?”

“Well yeah, sometimes they get drunk and give all their money to a homeless person by mistake then can’t afford a taxi home.”

Gabriel considered the concept. “Humans are strange.”

“You got that shit right.”

“So how do they get drunk?” Gabriel enquired, swigging at the bottle of saké like it was water.

Beelzebub looked at him incredulously. “You don’t know?”

Gabriel burped gently and shook his head, already feeling a little lightheaded. “Nope.”

“Well keep on with the bottle from the restaurant and you’ll find out.” Beelzebub side eyed him shrewdly for a moment. “... what d’you think about a little trip to Amsterdam?”

Gabriel shrugged and slurred a bit. “Dunno. Neverbeen. D’they have ‘amsters instead of hamsters?”

Beelzebub grinned. “Yup. Let’s go see the ‘amsters in Amsterdam. I’ll get you some Amstel beer to try while we’re there as well. It’ll be fun.” They helped the tall archangel to his feet, wondering about what other fun things they could get him to try while they were at it. “They have some interesting clubs over there as well…” Beelzebub remarked as they ambled down the street. They were sure they could use a demonic miracle to create a couple of passports.

* * *

After the oysters, and a delectable dessert, Crowley led Aziraphale out to a waiting limousine which swept them across the city before depositing them at a strangely familiar spot. Crowley took his angel’s arm and they walked alongside the river Tiber for a short distance as Aziraphale tried to recall why it looked so recognisable. 

Crowley then guided him onto a bridge over the river and paused in the middle to look up at the stars. 

“Recognise this, Angel?”

Aziraphale took in the scenery, slightly confused, before realisation dawned. “We’re on the _Ponte Fabricio!_ We walked over this that evening you accompanied me to Petronius’s restaurant. I tripped over and… and…” He looked up to meet the demon’s fond gaze. “...And you caught me, took my hand and stopped me falling face first into a pile of horse manure.”

Crowley smiled. “I never wanted to let go of your hand either. May I take it again?”

Aziraphale nodded and placed his hand in Crowley’s. Crowley took it and dropped to one knee. 

“May I take it forever?”

“Crowley! ...What…?”

“In Marriage, Aziraphale?” He produced the little golden snake ring with a flourish. 

“Oh Crowley…” Aziraphale’s eyes welled up and he felt quite breathless. “Yes, of course my dear, absolutely!” He blinked through the tears as he watched his beloved demon slip the ring onto his finger, then pulled him up and into a very overwhelming kiss.

* * *

After kissing for a considerable length of time, angel and demon strolled arm in arm along the riverside back toward the centre of the city and the Vatican as the stars twinkled overhead. With the lateness of the hour, most people had long since gone to bed and the city was as quiet as it was apt to get. Crowley paused as they drew level with the barriers outside Saint Peter’s Square at the edge of the Vatican, cogs turning. The gates were open so the square wasn’t closed off and they could have joined the handful of other people taking artfully lit long exposure photographs. Except the entire holy city was consecrated ground as far as demons were concerned, and Crowley didn’t want to risk another foot blistering episode like he had when rescuing his angel from the nazis. 

Crowley turned to his angel with a devilish grin. “Aziraphale - pick me up.”

“Pardon?”

“Pick me up, please, Angel, pleeeeaaaaasssseeeee? I want to do something.”

Aziraphale obediently scooped his demon into his arms as if he weighed nothing, and kissed his cheek fondly. “Alright, now what?”

Crowley nodded in the direction of Saint Peter’s square with a sly grin. “Take me in there.”

“You’re serious? Into the _Vatican?”_

“Absolutely, wanted to do this for ages, indulge me.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale stepped through the gateway into the holiest city on Earth. Crowley wriggled with joy in his arms, raised both hands high above his head, flipped both middle fingers at the place as a whole and yelled at the top of his voice:

**_“I’M MARRYING AN ANGEL, SCREW YOU!”_ **

_“Crowley!”_ Aziraphale was aghast.

“Ok, we can go now,” Crowley grinned at him. 

“Honestly, whatever am I to do with you, you incorrigible wretch?” The angel muttered without rancour. 

“Marry me,” Crowley replied simply. 

“Well, yes, I think we’ve already agreed on that one, dear.” He stepped through the gate again and gently returned his very own demon to the ground with another kiss. “And I can’t wait.”

_(Illustration by FreedomAttack)_

* * *

Gabriel opened his eyes blearily. He wasn’t used to sleep, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to experience it again if this is what it was like to wake up. His head was pounding, he felt nauseous and he had no idea where he was. 

“Whstfgl?” He tried. 

Beelzebub blinked up at him sleepily.

“Huh?”

“Whasss… what’s … this…?” He managed, weakly.

“Hangover.” Beelzebub replied, and rolled over. 

Gabriel frowned, and took in his surroundings.

“Who invented HANGOVERS and WHERE did I get this _TRAFFIC CONE?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week we will catch up with Eric and find out what other naughty shenanigans Bob got up to while his parents were away, Crowley has to face the music and dance when his boss catches up with him, and Gabriel makes a surprise discovery. 
> 
> This was a BIG chapter to do and I want to thank Cyn for helping out with some stellar ineffable bureaucracy fun, and FreedomAttack for illustrating Crowley's crowning moment of his great big "F You" to heaven and religion as a whole.
> 
> Art by [ FreedomAttack (Instagram)](https://www.instagram.com/freedomattack_thereal) or find her on Twitter [here.](https://twitter.com/Free00746552)
> 
> Guest writer [CynSyn on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/AMadness2Method) contributed a section on Gabriel and Beelzebub's date. Find her on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/amadness2method) and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/amadness2method) as well.


	30. Facing the music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley get home from their short holiday, Crowley gets an unwanted surprise and has to remonstrate with a recalcitrant roomba. Eric spills the beans on some of their (mis)adventures, and unexpected visitors turn up. Gabriel gets a surprise as well. (Illustrated, poorly, by the author.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah... I tried an illustration of my own. It did not go well. I cannot freehand faces yet and it shows, I was working off about 4 different reference photos (David Tennant's body, Bob, the throne, my other half posed in the same position so I could see what the neck was doing, which was obscured by a high neckline in the original reference etc...)
> 
> But, an attempt was made. Hopefully I'll get better with time and practise.

After an uneventful flight home, Crowley waved a hand at the front door of the flat to unlock it and walked in. Approximately 1 second later, he was shot, in the crotch, by a nerf dart. 

Crowley went down like a collapsing deck chair with a strained “oof”, hands between his legs, luggage forgotten and tears welling up in his eyes. Aziraphale looked on in confused horror. He looked down at his fiancée curled up in the foetal position on the floor, then up again to take in the scene - Bob, stock still in shock with a Nerf gun attached to the top of his housing, and Eric the disposable demon peering wide eyed and terrified at angel and demon from behind the safety of the sofa. 

“Shit,” whispered Eric. 

“Right in the meat’n’two veg…” croaked Crowley.

Bob beeped in alarm and tried to dive under the sofa, but was prevented by the nerf gun on his back. He wailed and scooted off at high speed toward the study. Crowley hissed from the floor and Aziraphale was suddenly torn between looking furious or just giggling. He could see now that Crowley wasn’t very injured, just surprised and a bit sore. Nonetheless, Bob couldn’t just go around shooting people with a toy gun. He marched off towards the study. 

Bob had managed to hide under the taller height of the ornate table, and beeped in alarm as strong angelic hands reached under and dragged him out backwards. 

“Robert J. Crowley! Come and apologise to your father this instant!” 

_ ‘Beeeeeeep!’  _

“I don’t want to hear it, you rapscallion. Now give me that projectile launcher and come and say sorry to Crowley.”

Aziraphale unhooked the nerf gun that Eric had somehow jerry-rigged into place with an articulated lever arm for pulling the trigger, and handed Bob to Crowley, who had limped through after them and slumped across the throne with a whimper. Eric was still loitering, wide-eyed unsure what to say. Aziraphale watched Bob as Crowley took him in his hands with a stern look.

“Well go on then,” Aziraphale prompted. 

Bob beeped sadly and flicked his whiskers in shame.

Crowley looked up at him. “You…” he grunted and shifted position. “You, Bob… are a little bastard….” his gaze wandered past where Aziraphale was standing to the hallway beyond in confusion. “Um, Eric.... why is there paint all over the floor?”

Eric flinched and fidgeted nervously.

“Er. We were fingerpainting. I put a brush on each of them and some dishes of poster paint, Lydia drew flowers on the paper I put down, but then the phone rang, it was Beelzebub again, and while I was distracted, I came back and Bob had wandered off with the brush still attached…”

Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers to banish the mess after Aziraphale took Bob from his hands and returned him to the floor. Only then did Eric register the glint of gold on Aziraphahle’s left ring finger. 

“Oh!” He exclaimed in surprise. Azirpahale caught the direction of his gaze and smiled. 

“Well, I suppose you’re the first to know then. Crowley proposed in Rome.”

“Congratulations,” Eric responded, then spied something held in Aziraphale’s other hand. Aziraphale caught his gaze and looked down. 

“Ah, yes, I wondered if you might be able to explain this…” The angel held up a poster torn from a lamp post outside. 

It read: “LOST ROOMBA! His name is ‘Bob’, 35cm/9cm high/2.8kg. DOES NOT BITE if you approach carefully. Left front door open by accident when takeaway delivery driver arrived, Bob escaped, last seen heading toward the river Thames. Bob cannot swim! Please call: 07977555666.”

Eric bit his lip. “Um…”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. 

“I forgot to take that one down. It’s ok, I mean you can see he’s here…” he waved at Bob helplessly. 

Aziraphale continued to treat Eric to a very thorough and expectant silence. Eric eventually filled it again. 

“I ordered pizza, but I didn’t shut the door properly again after the delivery driver had been, and Bob got out. He managed to get in the lift on his own, turns out he can interact with the electrics in the lift wirelessly even if he can’t reach the buttons…” (Here, Crowley nodded in understanding, he’d forgotten to tell Eric that.)

“... But I found him in the pub down the street. The old guys playing darts thought he was funny and were feeding him crisps. But he was fine! He got a timeout and sent to bed without any crumbs that night. He didn’t do it again.”

Crowley noticed the dog lead hanging up on the hook by the door as well, Eric grinned nervously when he saw where Crowley was looking. “Um yeah, he also got a bit excited after the sugar race, so when we went for a walk in the park he started chasing squirrels. He ended up stuck up an oak tree and I had to climb up there to get him down. So I bought him a lead. It’s retractable…” Eric added, as if that fact was helpful somehow. Something occurred to him. 

“Um, there’s the answerphone messages as well, from Beelzebub.”

Crowley winced. “Uh, yeah. Time to face the music, I guess.” He sighed and waved at the answerphone. 

*Message One… **_beep*_ ** (there was a stream of vociferous invective before Beelzebub became coherent): “Listen up, Noodle-Dick. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I  _ know _ what you’re doing and it ends  _ now _ . Pick up the phone!”

*Message Two…  **_beep*_ ** “...You’re a bastard, Crowley.”

*Message Three… **_beep*_ ** “GODVERDOMME, Crowley! Jij klootzak, neem de telefoon op!”

*Message Four… **_beep*_ ** “Verdomme allemaal, I’m stuck in Amsterdam with a drunken archangel and I can’t even remember which language I’m supposed to be speaking any more, and he’s behaving like a toddler on energy drinks in Toys R Us. FUCK he ran off again...”

*Message Five…  **_beep*_ ** “He has a traffic cone. He won’t put it back. Taking him to the cafes by the canal was a mistake. He’s also downed eight bottles of Amstel. Not to mention the saké before we left Heathrow.”

*Message Six…  **_beep*_ ** “He miracled clothes onto all the performers in the exotic dance club… THEN HE DANCED WITH THEM AND REMOVED HIS OWN UNTIL HE WAS ONLY IN A GOLD LAMÉ POSING POUCH.”

*Message Seven…  **_beep*_ ** “He snores, Crowley. SNORES!” 

*Message Eight… **_beep*_ ** “I’d say damn you, Crowley, but you already are.”

*Message Nine…  **_beep*_ ** “We’re on the plane back and he keeps falling asleep and letting his head fall on my shoulder and while I don’t hate it, I hate  _ you  _ for making me not hate it. This is weird, and… fluffy. I need a bath in boiling sulphur when I get home.”

*Message Ten…  **_beep*_ ** “Fine. I don’t hate you. Just don’t pull this shit again, you bastard. But we’re going to have to work out some kind of timeshare at the sushi restaurant so we don’t all end up there at the same time. I’m thinking alternating days of the week on a rolling basis.”

*End of messages.*

Crowley looked up to meet the faces of Eric and Aziraphale standing in the doorway, both with expressions of horrified fascination. 

“Boss?” Eric asked.

“Yeah?”

“You gotta teach me how to do that stuff.”

* * *

Eric opened the front door of the flat to leave, having said his goodbyes to Lydia and Bob, and came face to face with an archangel. He squeaked and flinched instinctively. 

“Don’t smite me!”

“Relax, bunny ears, he’s not gonna smite you,” Beelzebub stepped around Gabriel’s bulk where he’d been about to press the doorbell. “What the heaven are you doing here anyway?”

“Babysitting. Well, vacuum sitting. And lawnmower. Mower sitting, um, just generally sitting?” Eric was panicked. Crowley peered around the door from over his shoulder, spied Beelzebub, orbited as always by their halo of buzzing flies, and flinched backwards.

“Oh no you don’t! Get that skinny snake arse of yours back here this instant, Crowley!” Beelzebub stepped through the door and past Eric, flinging him a look as they passed that clearly said  _ ‘we’ll talk about this later.’  _ Gabriel followed them. Eric fled.

Crowley froze, and tried a panicked smile. 

“So…,” he tried with forced levity. “...Have a fun date?”

Gabriel smiled and opened his mouth but Beelzebub elbowed him in the middle before he could get a word out and glowered at Crowley. “Have you listened to your answerphone messages?”

“Um, possibly? Sounds like you have a nice time?”

Beelzebub grunted. Gabriel beamed happily. 

“Have you ever tried to wrangle over 6 feet of solid and very drunken archangel around the red light district of Amsterdam? He’s like a supernaturally strong toddler with zero inhibitions or filter. He went into a damn tattoo parlour!”

Gabriel looked confused. “I did?”

“Yes, you did. In case you didn’t wonder why your right butt cheek was hurting?”

“Oh it is a bit sore yes, I assumed I’d been bitten.”

“By who?” Crowley started, then shook his head. “No, don’t even answer that one.”

Gabriel unselfconsciously pulled his trousers, but thankfully not his underwear, down and craned his neck trying to see, just as Aziraphale walked in and took in the scene. Unable to restrain himself, Aziraphale snorted in surprise and let out a laugh. 

There was a small fly tattooed on Gabriel’s arse cheek. Gabriel still couldn’t see, so miracled up a small hand held mirror to inspect it. His jaw dropped in shock.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He demanded.

“You think I didn’t  _ try?” _ grumbled Beelzebub petulantly. 

“May I get anyone a cup of tea?” Aziraphale interjected, falling back on familiar territory in an attempt to defuse the situation. He was met with confused stares. “Ah, just me then, I’ll, er… I’ll go and put the kettle on, shall I? Yes. Right, good… right…” He retreated to the kitchen again. 

Gabriel pulled his trousers up again and Beelzebub continued to glare at Crowley. 

“If you ever try to interfere with my… personal life again I will personally order ten disposable demons to follow you around and shake glitter all over you and everything you care about for all eternity.”

“That’s fair.”

Aziraphale returned with a cup of tea and a packet of chocolate digestives, took a seat on the sofa and began devouring the biscuits with a determination borne of anxiety, avoiding Gabriel’s mildly disgusted gaze. 

“Anyway,” Beelzebub continued. “Where were you and why were you avoiding my calls?”

“Ah,” Crowley began, a trifle nervously, well… y’see… kind of, er… big news?”

Gabriel looked confused. “No one wants to see big nudes, Crowley.”

“I said news.”

Gabriel looked relieved. “Ah! That’s different then.”

“Yeahhhhh….” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lip. 

“... I’m marrying Aziraphale.”

Gabriel and Beelzebub performed a world-class performance of perfect synchronised jaw-dropping and earned an instant 6.0 across the board from the panel of judges responsible for the discipline of Olympic-grade jaw-dropping in the process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, Beelzebub is less than impressed with Crowley's interior decorating choices, Aziraphale discovers there are some tv programmes that Crowley does *not* enjoy, Lydia gets helpful, and Crowley gets a message from Gabriel.
> 
> * * *
> 
> ASIDE: I recently found out that @ReviewsShipping (The Shipping Forecast) on Twitter did a podcast reviewing Roomba of Doom back in June, they were extremely sweet about it and it really cheered me up on a very shit day to listen to: 
> 
> [https://open.spotify.com/episode/14xeoE0FHBvyxg069T42lo ](https://open.spotify.com/episode/14xeoE0FHBvyxg069T42lo)
> 
> <https://twitter.com/ReviewsShipping/status/1276583381577367552>
> 
> I got compared to Douglas Adams, Sir Terry Pratchett (who has definitely inspired my thought process for the past 30 years and definitely my writing), they said “this is crossover fic of the year right here”, and "in the hall of fame of the shipping forecast list of favourite writers". So that was nice. It actually came at a perfect time as I was having an *extremely* bad depressive episode at the time and it pulled me back up again. After all, three complete strangers complimenting you when they have no reason to be nice makes it hard to hate yourself. 
> 
> Thanks folks, that was really lovely. <3


	31. Dionaea muscipula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub is not impressed with Crowley's interior decorating choices, Crowley is not impressed with Aziraphale's televisual choices, Lydia gets a scrub up and is extra helpful in the kitchen, then Crowley gets a peculiar message...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["BarbaraA_To_Z" ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarbaraA_To_Z/pseuds/BarbaraA_To_Z) suggested Crowley has carnivorous plants and some of Beez’s buzzies get eaten. (in “good omens fans - the ineffables!” group on Facebook. Thanks for the inspiration, Barbara!)

Beelzebub flinched, and their eyes darted around in confusion. “What the  _ hell…?” _ Then they flinched again, and turned to peer through the open doorway to the plant room beyond the office. Ignoring demon, angel, and archangel for a moment, Beelzebub strode through to the plant room as if looking for something. Aziraphale met Crowley’s gaze and he shrugged. Both looked questioningly at Gabriel, who also shrugged. Crowley cautiously followed the Prince of Hell.

He found Beelzebub in the plant room glaring at one plant in particular. 

“What the hell is this?” They demanded.

“ _ Dionaea muscipula,”  _ Crowley replied. Beelzebub looked blank. Aziraphale had followed Crowley and stood in the doorway. 

“Venus flytrap,” the angel helpfully supplied. Beelzebub glared at them both, then jabbed a finger at another plant next to it.

“And that bastard?” 

_ “Drosera capensis,”  _ Crowley replied, “cape sundew.”

Beelzebub ground their teeth and responded in a tight voice; “and what the  _ fuck  _ do they think they’re doing to my bloody  _ BUZZIES?”  _

“Getting ready to digest them, probably,” Crowley shrugged. 

_ “Well bloody  _ **_stop it_ ** _ then!” _ Beelzebub yelled back at him. 

Crowley sighed and stepped toward the sundew first, snapped up some tweezers and gently pulled the buzzing fly from the sticky droplets, before placing it in Beelzebub’s cupped hands, then slowly prised open the venus flytrap’s serrated edges just enough for the second fly to walk out on it’s own. It then took wing and resumed it’s holding pattern around the prince’s head with the others. Crowley hastily picked up both plant pots and took them through to the bathroom, shutting the door on them. 

Beelzebub stormed back through to the lounge, deposited the sticky fly in Gabriel’s hand with an order to “hold this,” and headed for the front door. Gabriel looked down at the temporarily flightless fly in bemusement, then hurried after the small angry demon. Beelzebub paused at the door, opened their mouth as if about to say something, raised a finger as if to make a point, looked lost for words, closed their mouth again with a snap, pointed at Crowley threateningly on general principles, and left, trailed by a very confused archangel.

“Well,” Aziraphale let out with a relieved exhalation, “that was an experience.”

* * *

Bob and Lydia had no idea about much of what had just gone on, but Bob was relieved that the heat appeared to be off him for the moment, at least until he noticed that Crowley was still walking a little bit funny and still seemed sore. He was a very repentant little vacuum, which was not the usual state for a demonic entity. He scooted closer to Crowley’s feet as the demon collapsed down onto the sofa with a weary groan. 

Aziraphale sat down again and picked up his teacup once more, shifting position slightly so that Crowley could rest his head on his lap, then proceeded to gently run his fingers through his short red hair fondly. Lydia scooted up on the other side, having missed him very much over the past few days, and received a consoling pat on her housing in response. 

“Thank you for helping Eric keep Bob in line while we were away, my dear,” Aziraphale told her. “It does sound like you had a lot of fun, would you like uncle Eric to come and look after you again in future?”

Both appliances beeped an affirmative, making even Crowley smile despite his soreness. “Well at least we know who we can call on when we get around to organising the honeymoon then,” he muttered.

“We have a wedding to plan first though, dear.”

“Yeah. Hopefully somewhere unconsecrated or you’ll need to hold me in your arms for the entire ceremony so my feet don’t get burnt. Or give me a piggyback.”

“Not very romantic.”

“It’d be funny though.”

“Non-denominational I think is best, darling.”

Aziraphale waved a hand at the tv and Crowley relaxed back again as the soothing voice of David Attenborough washed over him. At least for a while. Aziraphale almost spilled his tea when suddenly Crowley jumped and wrapped his arms around the angel’s middle, burying his face in his abdomen with a squeak. 

Aziraphale looked around in alarm but couldn’t see what had startled his fiancée so badly. There were no spiders around. He looked down at Crowley with concern.

“Whatever is the matter, dear?”

Crowley peered up at him, wide eyed, then his eyes flicked back to the television again. The nature documentary continued. He seemed lost for words. A mongoose gambolled across the screen. Crowley whimpered and hid his face in Aziraphale’s soft middle again, tightening his grip. Realisation dawned. 

“Would you like me to change the channel, dear?” He asked sympathetically. Crowley gave a little nod. The terrifying demon who was happy watching the goriest horror movies or jump scares while cackling and eating popcorn was a trembling wreck because there was a mongoose on screen, which had just spotted a cobra and was closing in on it fast. Aziraphale changed the channel hastily and Crowley uncurled. 

Unfortunately, he had only jumped one channel, to the “plus one” version of the same channel, the next programme was still a nature documentary. The peace lasted only another fifteen minutes before Crowley leapt off the back of the couch and hid behind it with a yelp. Aziraphale wasn’t familiar with the creature on the screen this time or why it had provoked such a response in his darling demon. Crowley peered apprehensively over the back of the sofa at it while Aziraphale tried to make sense of things. It was a long-legged bird stalking across the African plain. 

“What on earth is the matter, dear?”

“Ssssssecretarty bird,” Crowley hissed, teeth bared. 

“Do they eat snakes as well?”

“Yesss.” Crowley ducked back behind the sofa again as the camera zoomed in. Aziraphale hurriedly changed the channel instead to some cartoons that Bob enjoyed, receiving a grateful beep in response. 

“It’s safe to come out now, darling, I promise.”

Crowley clambered over the back of the sofa again and curled up next to his angel, while Aziraphale kissed the top of his head gently “Sorry about that, dear. No more nature documentaries, I promise.”

* * *

Aziraphale lifted Lydia easily up onto the granite kitchen countertop, despite her considerable weight, and rolled her gently onto her back, resting on some wadded up towels, so he could remove and clean her blades. Meanwhile, Crowley was in the bathroom with Bob, giving his filter a wash and wiping down his housing. 

Lydia watched with quiet interest, upside down, as Aziraphale scrubbed her blades in hot soapy water, then withdrew the knife sharpener and began to spruce up the edge on them. This done, he washed them again and set them aside to dry while he took a soapy sponge to clean the underside of her housing until it was sparkling. Lydia giggled with her motors at the ticklish sensation. 

After re-assembling the robo mower again, and washing her wheels just as thoroughly, Aziraphale set her right side up on the counter and smiled at her. 

“Now I know you’ve wanted to try this for a while dear, so now is your time to shine - here you go…”

He indicated a pile of potatoes, turnips, carrots, parsnips, leeks, celery, mushrooms and onion on the countertop. 

“Chop, chop!” The angel instructed with a grin. 

Lydia beeped in delight and slowly moved over the pile of washed vegetables, lowered her mowing height, engaged her clutch, spun up her blades and chopped them into chunks before reversing off again carefully. Aziraphale beamed and patted her housing. 

“Sterling job, my girl!” He swept all the chopped veg into the slow cooker dish, then set it in the outer housing of the slow cooker, added some stock, red wine and chopped beef that he’d already seasoned and seared. Then he added a handful of fresh herbs from Crowley’s herb garden on the roof, and placed the lid on. 

He’d been wanting to have a go at cooking dinner for them for a while, and had found a fairly straightforward recipe for the slow cooker that mainly consisted of flinging everything in the dish together then just leaving it alone for six hours. It seemed perfect. 

He tipped Lydia again to wipe the mess from her blades, then popped her back on the floor just as Bob scooted through from the bathroom, also nicely clean with a fresh dust filter. He booped his girlfriend on her bumper bar with a happy beep, then circled Aziraphale twice before scooting over to a low bookcase where he pointed out a book he wanted the angel to read them. 

Aziraphale smiled indulgently and brought out the book before settling down on the sofa as the appliances sat on the floor in front of him, side by side, to listen. 

“Uh, Aziraphale? I’ve got a text message from Gabriel…” Crowley interrupted, sounding rather confused. 

“Gabriel?”

“Yeah. He wants me to go and meet with him at his office.”

“Doesn’t he mean me?”

“Nope, he specifically wants to talk to me.”

“Do you want to take Bob along for a ride, darling?”

“Nah, probably not a good idea, he still hasn’t worked out where the dust is coming from and I don’t want him putting two and two together. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Love you darling.”

“Love you too, Angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Tuesday - Gabriel bites off more than he can chew. A demon runs rings around him and big shenanigans are being plotted ;)


	32. Camels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a run-in with the Archangel Michael, confuses Uriel, then utterly bamboozles Gabriel, (not that bamboozling Gabriel is exactly difficult to achieve.) Gabe is not only permanently befuddled, but also stuck very much in the past and trying like heck to keep up. He's been doing "Research!" Sadly his idea of reliable sources for human customs are somewhat old fashioned, and a few thousand years out of date. Crowley siezes the opportunity to run rings around him. When he gets home, there's a surprise for him and Aziraphale, but the appliances do not approve. Crowley has Plans...

Crowley pulled up outside Celestial HQ and parked on the double yellow lines, which as usual, rolled back obediently to make room for the Bentley. Michael just happened to be leaving the building as he stepped out of the car. 

“You can’t park there.” She snapped. “It’s illegal.”

Crowley gave her a look. “‘S’not. Perfectly fine, look…” he waved at the miraculously line-free kerb side of the road. The archangel narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I don’t know what demonic nonsense you’re up to, foul fiend, but I’m calling the police.”

Crowley snorted. “What are you? The Archangel Fucking Karen?”

She looked baffled. “... but my name is Michael…”

“You’re one pastry short of a patisserie,” Crowley muttered, slinking off, with a discreet snap of his fingers which made her phone drop signal for the next few hours. 

* * *

Crowley sat in the waiting area outside Gabriel’s office, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. The receptionist angel gave him a polite, if apprehensive smile and then proceeded to studiously ignore him as much as possible, avoiding eye contact by closely inspecting some memos and reports. 

Presently, Uriel wandered in with some fresh reports to leave on the secretarial angel’s desk. She eyed the demon warily. 

“What are you doing here?” She demanded without preamble. 

“Appointment, Gabriel invited me.” Crowley replied shortly.

“Do you still work, down there?”

“Freelance, contractor. I set my own hours, they leave me alone, I do what I want. If it happens to be demonic, I turn in a report.”

“We retired Aziraphale.”

“Yes, and he’s taken to retirement like a whatsit to water. Suits him, gives him time for the bookshop and he gets to do blessings and miracles on his own terms as he sees fit.”

“Whatsit?”

“Duck.”

Uriel’s eyes flew wide and she flung herself to the floor, then looked around in confusion. 

“Huh?”

“Ducks - they take to water. Like ducks,” Crowley explained, trying not to grin too much at the sprawled Uriel. The secretarial angel giggled. A sharp look from Uriel silenced them immediately. She stood and brushed herself off in a failed attempt to recover the remaining shreds of her dignity. She flung a filthy look at Crowley and stormed out. 

The door to Gabriel’s office opened with a minor miracle, and the secretary nodded to Crowley to indicate that he should go in. Crowley stepped in warily, Gabriel gave him a strained smile from behind his desk. 

“Ah, Crowley. Do take a seat. Um…” Gabriel fiddled with his pen, thinking. Crowley noticed a pile of croissant crumbs spilling out from underneath the desk and bit the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face. A moment later, a tiny dead leaf fell from nowhere and landed on Gabriel’s shoulder. He flicked it off distractedly, evidently used to the unusual phenomena by now, to some degree. 

There was a small box on the desk. It was wrapped in shiny purple paper with a gold ribbon. Gabriel picked it up, seemed to be thinking, then set it down again. “So…” he began. “This, er… proposal of yours.”

“Yeah?”

“... Rather unprecedented.” Gabriel continued. “We were checking the records to see if there is any protocol for such arrangements, but the library has been in somewhat of a disarray since Aziraphale left off his weekly organisational visits to supervise our librarians. Nonetheless, we did find some old texts relating to the practise and have been trying to make sense of them…”

Gabriel picked up a very elderly scroll, practically disintegrating, and unrolled it carefully on his desk between them, setting the gift wrapped box aside for the moment. Then he fished out a couple of ancient clay tablets covered in cuneiform and laid them out next to the scroll. 

“Now here…” Gabriel pointed at one of the clay tablets, “...it states that a dowry should be expected. Now we weren’t sure which side that should be from, but we did a bit more research and it seems that as you were the proposing party, you should be the one supplying Aziraphale’s dowry.

Crowley gaped at him in polite incomprehension. Gabriel ignored him and carried on. 

“We weren’t sure quite what it should consist of, but this scroll here was rather helpful. We did have to do a bit of calculating to find out what the going rate is for a Principality of course, as compared to a human, although I’m not sure Zephkiel adjusted for conversion rates correctly. He prepared a list…” Here, Gabriel rummaged on his desk a little more until he found a sheet of paper. “Ah, here we go…”

He passed it over to Crowley. Crowley read it. Crowley looked up at Gabriel with one eyebrow achieving heretofore unheard-of heights on his forehead.

“You want me, to give you…,” he consulted the list again, “...4 metres of silk, quarter of a kilo of saffron, one kilo of salt, half a kilo of pepper, half a kilo of paprika, twelve grammes of silver, two of gold, two goats, two sheep and four camels?” 

“We are prepared to negotiate, naturally,” Gabriel reassured him with a smile. “Although I’m not sure where we are supposed to keep the camels.” He looked around his office with a slightly worried expression that said he was concerned they might end up living in there with him. 

“Negotiate?”

“I believe that is customary, yes. To come to a mutually agreeable arrangement?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah.” Crowley thought for a moment. “You really want the camels, huh?”

“They do appear to be traditional.”

“Right. But salt is more valuable. You can buy, like three camels for a kilo of salt.” Crowley put on his most winning smile. “Wouldn’t you prefer a bit more salt in lieu of the camels? Easier to store, you don’t have to feed it, it doesn’t spit, or bite, or shit on the floor. Plus you can grit the path with it in winter.”

Gabriel looked lost. “But at least one camel is surely traditional?”

“Ah, but…,” pointed out Crowley, “is it not harder for a camel to get into heaven than for a rich man to pass through the eye of a needle?”

Gabriel looked even more lost. (Which had, after all, been Crowley’s intention, to discombobulate and generally confuse him to render him more susceptible to demonic manipulation.) 

Crowley carried on. 

“How do you want to get the camels up here? Will they fit in the lift? I don’t think so. The salt will though. I could throw in an extra kilo of pepper to sweeten the deal too.” The demon winked with a sly grin. “Or…” he eyed up the expensive Savile Row suit. “How about a few more metres of silk you can take to your tailor? Dove grey? A bit of lilac - purple dye is very valuable you know, I’m sure you’ll find that on a scroll somewhere.”

Gabriel started scribbling notes frantically. 

“Now how about a nice camelhair coat? That’d look dashing on you. Instead of the sheep we could go with some prime quality merino wool, and some finest lambswool. Just in time for autumn fashions eh?” Crowley’s mind was whirling away. He decided to leave the goats on the list. Goats could be fun. Especially if he were to bring them up here and just let them loose in the office. They’d be Gabriel’s problem then. His palms itched in anticipation of some truly demonic shenanigans. He wondered if he could persuade Gabriel to accept a goose as part of the deal...

* * *

Crowley left Gabriel’s office clutching the mysterious wrapped gift, with orders to deliver it personally to Beelzebub before leaving. He hit the lift button for the sub-levels and descended, hoping Beez would excuse him delivering the gift as it was a direct order from Gabriel, hence not Crowley “interfering”. He hoped whatever was inside couldn’t be misconstrued as another prank by him. He didn’t think Gabriel would be that cunning at least. 

He grinned to himself. He’d persuaded the archangel to accept the same amount of goods but with regards to livestock had haggled him down to a single camel (which Crowley had no idea how he’d obtain but he had a plan), a couple of bolts of fine merino wool fabric instead of the sheep, three goats and a goose. He’d insisted that geese were traditional British gifts, moreso at Christmas time (he declined to state that those were usually deceased and ready for roasting.) But Gabriel had bought the explanation. A quick trip to Tescos, or the local Indian supermarket for the bulk spices would be easy enough. Maybe he could just raid a grit bin at the side of the road for the rock salt, it’s not like Gabriel was going to eat it…

The lift pinged and the doors opened at the basement level. He stepped out into the dank, dripping halls of the Hell main offices and made his way to Beelzebub’s office. He stepped in after his knock was replied to, holding up the gift in front of him like a shield. 

“No tricks, promise - you can call Gabe and ask him yourself, he sent this down with me, for you.” He held out the gift to a skeptical Beelzebub. They eyed him warily. 

“Right, you’re going to open it for me. That way, if it it’s exploding glitter, you get hit, not me.”

“Um, ok…” Crowley hoped it wouldn’t be lingerie or sex toys either. 

He undid the ribbon and cast it aside, then cautiously ripped the shiny paper to reveal a smart glossy white box within. Beelzebub’s eyes widened then they tried to suppress a grin. 

“Ok, I got this,” they said, taking the box from Crowley’s hands. They opened it to reveal a clear glass-like phone, like a smaller version of Gabriel’s, suitable to be held in Beelzebub’s smaller hands, with a faint swirl of red around the edge rather than the violet of Gabriel’s ostentatious large mobile. Beelzebub allowed an unfamiliar smile to creep across their features. Crowley realised he probably shouldn’t admit to having seen this moment, so discreetly edged his way backwards out of the office and left the Prince of Hell to their own devices, closing the door quietly behind him. 

* * *

When Crowley got home, another box awaited him, along with his fiancée, with a warm smile and a kiss. 

“Everything go well, love?”

“Oh, yeah. Gabriel is a bit perplexed by our situation it seems, and rather old fashioned.”

“What did he say?”

Crowley considered it. 

“Well I need to take a trip to a livestock sale or something, Tescos, and Harvinder Gill’s mini supermarket down the street.”

“Pardon?”

Crowley explained the situation as Aziraphale attempted to keep a straight face. He failed, and ended up giggling, chuckling, then eventually howling with laughter, especially at the bits of Crowley’s plan that he divulged to him. 

“Anyway, what’s the box?” Crowley asked after Aziraphale’s giggle fit subsided. The angel wiped the tears from his eyes and drew a steadying breath. 

“Well it’s addressed to both of us, so I thought I’d wait until you got home to open it. The sender address is from Jasmine Cottage in Tadfield.” 

“Newt and Anathema?”

“One would assume so.” Aziraphale slit the top of the large box open, then Crowley helped hold the plain outer box while Aziraphle lifted out the heavy, brightly coloured inner box. Crowley inspected it critically. It said “Hexa” on the packaging and showed a futuristic looking, six legged robot wearing a plant on top of it’s crab-like body. 

Aziraphale extracted a card. He read it aloud. “Congratulations to you both on your engagement, we heard you like robot appliances so thought you might like this, you can put a plant on it and it’ll walk around the house to ensure the plant is always in perfect sunlight conditions, and tell you when the plant needs watering by doing a little dance! It’s even nicknamed  _ ‘Guardian of the Garden!’  _ We hope it’s useful. Love from Anathema and Newton.”

“Oh no.” Crowley groaned. “No way, not doing it, neither of us is. Two is enough - this stays NON sentient, understood, Angel?” Azirpahale nodded enthusiastically. 

“Absolutely.” Aziraphale studied the images on the box with mild horror. “It looks like giant robotic spider.”

“Yeah.” Crowley shuddered. Nonetheless he opened the inner box and extracted the robot and it’s charger, assembled the bits that required assembly, and plugged it in to charge. He selected a suitably sized succulent plant and mounted it on the top as per the instructions, inserting the humidity probe in the soil. 

Bob trundled up with interest as soon as he saw a new device on the floor, with a cautious beep of greeting, which was obviously not returned by the entirely non-sentient, and not-yet-charged robot plant babysitter. Bob’s noises roused Lydia who trundled through as well to investigate. She stopped in the doorway to take in the scene in confusion. 

Lydia likewise scooted forward with a cautiously welcoming beep, and seemed rather indignant when the new device failed to answer. She inched forward and nudged it. Nothing happened. She nudged it a little firmer, it shifted slightly across the floor and nothing more. Lydia beeped in annoyance. 

“It’s not sentient, not like you two,” Crowley explained. “It can’t think, it’s just a simple machine, like the keurig was.” He threw a pointed look at Bob. “But that doesn’t mean you can murder it. It just won’t talk to you or play with you, it’s a thing, not a being like you are.”

Bob nudged it again, not entirely understanding. Crowley sighed. “Look, you know the tv? And the hi fi? The Kenwood food mixer in the kitchen? The Hive heating controller? All those things? Hexa is like those - not smart, no self awareness, just a thing. It doesn’t have a demonic or angelic soul in it. Just ignore it. It’ll get on with what it’s supposed to do. Don’t mess with it, ok? It’s a gift from friends who didn’t know better.”

Bob observed Crowley silently for a moment, thinking, then reversed into Hexa as if giving it a sly kick, and scooted away in disgust. 

“Oi, hellspawn! I  _ said, _ don’t mess with it, capice?” Lydia appeared to be glowering at the newcomer as well, radiating disapproval of it’s lack of manners. “That goes for you too, Lydia. Just ignore it. It’s not being rude because it’s not talking to you, it’s just not powered up yet, and even when it is, it won’t know how to interact with you. We’re not making it sentient, I’m not starting the Mayfair home for abandoned robots here.”

Lydia gave a fluttering sigh of motors and retreated to her favourite sunspot in the plant room again. Aziraphale dispensed with the packaging and went to check on dinner in the slow cooker, serving up some portions of steaming delicious stew for them both.

* * *

Later, once Hexa was fully charged, Crowley turned it on, and watched as it used it’s light sensors to seek out the brightest spot in the late evening sun to take it’s plant for a sunbathe. It perked up on it’s six spider-like legs (making Crowley shudder slightly), and began a slow walk across the floor, until it found Lydia, already occupying the best sunspot. It bumped up against her and stopped. 

Lydia illuminated one red LED as if opening one angry eye at the interloper, and growled her motors at it. 

Hexa, of course, had no idea. It tried to nudge its way into the sunspot alongside the irritated robo-mower, nudging her again by accident. Lydia’s motors growled slightly deeper. On the third nudge as it tried to settle down into position, Lydia fully woke, beeped an expletive in annoyance, and promptly bulldosed Hexa across the floor until she had it firmly pinned up against the wall, where she subjected it to a barrage of abuse, which Bob overheard. 

Bob charged in, ready to defend his girlfriend, to see her pinning the hapless device against the wall and yelling at it in a flurry of annoyed beeps and growls. Her blades were lowered and engaged in threat, creating a loud rumble that reverberated through the floor. Bob’s LEDs went red and he surged forward as well, knocking one of Hexa’s legs out from under it, making it tilt over slightly and scrabble for grip with it’s other five legs. 

Hearing the commotion, Aziraphale hurried through to the plant room to find the impasse. 

“Lydia! Leave the poor thing alone, you bad girl!”

Lydia beeped back at him, trying to explain that he’d been trying to take her spot, but the angel was having none of it. 

“I don’t care to hear it, Lydia. Hexa looks terribly expensive and was given to us in good faith, you will NOT break it on it’s first day! Now get back to your charging port and allow the silly thing to do its job.”

Lydia released the pressure with petulant growl and reversed off, grumbling the whole way. Bob shoved at Hexa’s other legs briefly in a threat which the device had no way to understand, gave a final warning beep at it, and followed Lydia so he could cuddle up to her and comfort her. Aziraphale regarded the plant bot with resignation. It seemed undamaged, and began it’s crablike walk back toward the rapidly diminishing sunspot as the sun set outside, settled down, and began to gently rotate the plant on its lid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Bob fans for sharing Hexa with me: [click here to view Hexa.](https://www.housebeautiful.com/shopping/home-gadgets/a27208125/hexa-robot-takes-care-of-your-plant-for-you/?fbclid=IwAR1qqZh4t4rGVKdTIzu9Av7Ty1a5K84S-PEi8bC3hKhnxUrKbRqv9-OJK_k)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Main site: <https://www.vincross.com/hexa>
> 
> Next week's chapter is titled "Goats" - Crowley is in his demonic element. Gabriel should be afraid... very afraid.


	33. Goats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is on a mission to start collecting items for Aziraphale's dowry as demanded by Gabriel. Gabriel has no clue what he's in for. 
> 
> Back at home, all is not well with the gift from Anathema and Newt. Lydia gets full-name yelled at for the first time.

Crowley gazed around at the homely mess of the farmyard as a collie dog sniffed at Lydia cautiously. Lydia, familiar now with the habits of sheepdogs, indulged it in pretending to be herded around by it, while Bob stuck close to Crowley’s heel, intimidated by the unusual sights and sounds. He’d never been in the countryside before, and there were a lot more unpleasant piles of mess around on the concrete than he was used to dealing with. All he knew was that he would very much regret running over any of it, so skirted around the piles carefully, ever vigilant. 

“So you must be Mr. Crowley then? I’m Tina.” A short blonde lady with a tanned face that had clearly been out in all weathers for a couple of decades but didn’t care, greeted him with a smile and an extended hand. Crowley shook it, then her gaze slipped downwards in confusion. 

“Is that a roomba…? … And a lawnmower?”

Crowley took her hand and shook it. “Yeah, advanced AI, I’m training them, don’t worry about it, it’s a work thing, I’m in R&D for a tech company, they’re testbeds for new AI programming, we put the motherboards in them to test out for future devices - the roomba and mower chassis just makes a convenient mounting point for the software to operate on.”

“Uh huh…” Tina sounded confused by the jargon, but the guy had offered her a not insubstantial amount of money for her assistance, and she wasn’t about to let a little eccentricity get in the way of that as he was paying up front, even just for the consultation he’d asked for today. 

“Twiglet! Leave the mower alone, go on, git.” The collie yipped once then retreated to a gateway without taking her eyes off Lydia, and lay down. “So, you wanted to talk about goats, Mr. Crowley?”

“Yeah. I want to buy a few - three to be exact, it’s for a work project, They’ll be cared for well, kept as pets and given best food and vet care for their entire lives. I will need you to do a bit of pre-emptive conditioning training before I take delivery however, which of course you will also be paid for.”

“Uh, ok. Not animal testing stuff is it?”

“Oh hell no, not at all. They’ll be pets to be honest, get the very best of everything, they’ll think they’ve gone to heaven! But I do need them training first. Nothing complicated, just so they’ll come when called, that’s it. Can you do something every time you feed them so they associate the noise with something good and come running?”   


“Oh yeah of course - the retired horses get that training almost by accident. We drag the hay bales and the feed out to the paddocks on the back of a tractor, so even horses who arrive scared of tractors start to perk up when they hear it after a week or so, they come running to the gate looking for it because they start to associate the engine sound with imminent food delivery. Works like a charm. What did you have in mind?”

Crowley handed her something. Tina looked at it incredulously. 

“You want me to use this… every time I feed them?”

“Yup.”

Tina laughed. “You’re bonkers, but yeah, can do. Just glad I ain’t got any neighbours out here, that’s all. So any particular goat breeds you had in mind?”

“Yeah, a few. First, a pygmy goat - the naughtier the better - I want the most annoying little bastard you’ve got and want to get rid of.”

Tina laughed. “I know just the one, I nicknamed him Satan.”

“Oh, I might have to change his name, pretty sure that one won’t go down well.”

“That’s fine, it’s just a nickname, he doesn’t have a proper one really, just an ear tag number. I couldn’t get a 666 one but it does have 667 in it at least, so his other nickname is ‘the neighbour of the beast’.”

Crowley nodded with a grin. “I like it, anyway, next up, d’you have any woodenleg goats?”

Tina sighed. “Yeah, imported some from the USA a few years ago when the big craze started, I’ve got a little breeding band set up, but popularity dropped off again so I haven’t been breeding as many recently. Want another naughty one?”

“Just a particularly fainty one.”

“Everyone wants that, but of course. It can wear off as they get older, mind, then they don’t fall over so much, they just kind of stop in their tracks and go stiff as they get used to it. Some do persist in being fainting goats into adulthood however, it happens when they get surprised or excited, like at feed time.”

“Right. Last, a Damascus goat, a young one, y’know when they look all cute with the long dangly ears, before they mature. Don’t worry it won’t be got rid of when it’s an adult, I just want them to see the cute side and get used to it before it matures into demon goat from hell look.”

“You’re sure they won’t want to get rid of it when it grows up?”

“Absolutely, you have my word, this’ll be the best home these goats ever see. They’ll be guaranteed a nice long life.” Crowley dropped a dose of demonic suggestion into his words to ensure she was convinced. He didn’t want any harm to come to the animals at all, and he knew that heaven would take care of them - they had to after all. They’d all be blessed with supernaturally long life anyway as part of the deal. He’d see to that personally.

“Right last one, you said you could help me find a shetland pony. A particularly belligerent one.”

“They’re  **_all_ ** belligerent, Mr. Crowley,” Tina sighed. “And yes, I have a couple. You said it doesn’t matter if they’re broken to ride or to harness?”

“Nah, they won’t be worked. They’ll get proper exercise, but they won’t have to do a job. Better if it gets on with the goats though. Oh, and a light chestnut or palomino would be better, but not essential. Any colour is fine really, it’d just be better if it’s a lighter sandy colour if possible. Can you introduce them all and keep them together here until I’m ready to have them delivered?”

“Yes that’s fine. You said you’ll be paying for them and for a few week’s livery fees and the delivery all up front today?”

“Yup.” Crowley smiled. 

Tina looked alarmed. “Uh, Mr. Crowley? Your lawn mower has gone under the fence and is mowing my paddock…”

Crowley looked up to see Lydia mingling with a small flock of fat faced texel sheep who were eyeing the newcomer warily, occasionally stomping a hoof in alarm and snorting at her. Bob took in the scene and remembered the sheepdog at the park. A devious idea occurred to him and he scooted into the field, then proceeded to round the sheep up and away from Lydia until they were all hemmed into one corner. 

Tina gaped at Bob, then turned to look at Crowley. 

“Is your workplace, by any chance, developing artificial intelligence sheepdog bots?”

Crowley laughed then shrugged with a wink “might be related to that field, yeah.” He lifted his head and whistled loudly. “Oi! Hellspawn! Lydia! Get your mechanical butts back here!” Both appliances obediently trundled back and scooted to heel as Tina led Crowley to the goat pens to show him her suggestions.

“So here’s Satan, feel free to rename him whatever you like.” Tina indicated a tiny black and white pygmy goat. 

“Balthasar,” Crowley said without hesitation.

“I’ve got a few Damascus goat kids over in this paddock, like the look of any?”

One goat kid who was so dark brown he was almost black bounced up to the fence to sniff at Bob and Lydia inquisitively, his ears so long they were down to his knees, hanging like pretty ribbons or waves of hair. He bleated loudly at them, making Bob flinch backwards slightly in surprise. The nannygoat screamed loudly at it and the kid bounced back over to her, leaping on and off a wooden cable spool in the paddock as he went and giving a little twist in the air as he jumped. 

“That one.” Crowley said firmly. “Name him Melchior.”

“Right, and woodenleg goats, there’s a few who might suit you - that brown and white over there in the corner, the white one lying down, the brown one with green tag in one ear and yellow in the other, and the little white one on top of the hay bale.”

Crowley considered them, then asked to go in and meet them. The tiny white one fainted the most, so Crowley picked that one with a grin, and named him Gaspar. Lydia fussed around the downed goats with concern until Crowley reassured her that they were fine and would be on their feet again unharmed in a moment. One lifted it’s head prior to getting to it’s feet again when Lydia nudged it encouragingly, causing it to immediately faint again in surprise. 

“Leave it alone, Lydia,” Crowley told her gently. “Now, shetland ponies.”

“Shitlands, more like,” Tina muttered darkly. “You sure you want a naughty one? I mean they’re all naughty, but they can be handfuls - and don’t mistake their size for weakness - they’re stronger than humans and they will drag you across a field if they have a strop. They were used to haul tubs of coal as pit ponies in the past - they’ve got a lot of pulling power for their size.” She led Crowley and the appliances down a little track to another, larger field, where a small herd of horses and ponies grazed. Several trotted up to the gate to see if any treats were on offer. One Welsh pony began nibbling at Crowley’s pocket nosily until he hissed it and it backed off. 

A small dark bay shetland gelding headbutted Tina, knocking her against the electric fence, and making her yelp out. “YOU BASTARD!” she yelled at the unrepentant pony. Crowley grinned, never had he seen such a wonderfully demonic pony in his life.

“Perfect, I’ll take You Bastard then.”

“That’s not his name, it’s…”   


“It is now.” Crowely cut in with a grin.

Tina laughed. “Fair enough, suits him. Sneaky little bugger. D’you want him training the same as the goats too?”

“Yeah, why not?” Crowley watched as Tina looped a leadrope around You Bastard’s neck and extracted him to the field to lead him to a separate paddock where she’d bring the goat kids to join him later so they could get to know each other. Crowley settled up and brushed the mud off the appliances before hefting them into the Bentley and heading home again. 

* * *

Crowley waved the door open and both appliances charged inside to seek out Aziraphale, who patted them both fondly, and then embraced Crowely with a kiss. Bob went for a nap on his charging port as usual, while Lydia went to find her favourite sunspot for a nap to charge up her preferred solar charger some more while she slept. 

Aziraphale broke off kissing Crowely at the sound of a disgruntled beep and a clatter from the plant room. They regarded each other with a mutually confused (and slightly suspicious) look, then crept off in the direction of the plant room. 

Hexa was upside down in a corner, legs waving feebly in the air, the succulent in it’s pot lying discarded in a scatter of soil next to it. One very smug robo mower sat in her favourite sun spot. 

**_“Lydia Suzette Husqvarna!”_ ** Aziraphale bellowed at her, as Crowley knelt down to first right the little succulent in it’s pot, and then to turn Hexa the right way up again, and re-fit the plant to it’s robotic host. “What in heaven’s name were you thinking of you, you terrible, delinquent girl? You’ve been told before to share the sunspot nicely with the plant robot. Now you bulldoze it over without compunction and have the gall to look smug about it? Well not today, miss!”

Aziraphale hoisted Lydia up, despite her weight, and carried her to the red marble desk in the study, where he placed her, and waited for Crowley to follow. He pointed to her solar panel. “If you would be so kind, dear?”

Crowley nodded, understanding, and deftly undid the quick connectors on the solar panel. She didn’t need it, it was just a nice upgrade, and removing it wouldn’t harm her, but it would definitely get the point home about sharing the sun spot if it no longer had any benefit to her. 

“Confiscated for a week, my girl! And no walks in the park for three days.” He miracled up a couple of bricks and placed them on the floor, then picked Lydia up and put her down so her axles were on the bricks, lifting her wheels an inch off the floor. “And you’re in ten minutes timeout as well, to sit here, and think about what you’ve done.” 

Lydia beeped sadly. Crowley gave her a stern look. “You bruised a leaf. It was growing well and hadn’t done anything wrong. This isn’t the end of this, Lydia. You crossed a line there.” She beeped again as Crowley set the timer on his phone and they left her to stew for a little while. 

* * *

Angel and demon sat together on the sofa, sharing a bottle of wine. 

“‘Suzette’?” Crowley enquired after a while. 

“Crêpes,” Aziraphale replied.

“Ah. Thought so.”

“Well every child needs a middle name you can shout when they’re in extra deep trouble.”

“And Husqvarna? Why choose her brand for a surname?”

“Well she’s not really a Crowley yet, Bob is. She’s Bob’s girlfriend, it would be a bit strange if she was also a Crowley, or an Aziraphale for that matter. It just seemed right. I’ve been thinking of her as that in my mind for a while.”

Crowley shrugged. “Makes sense I suppose.” He took a gulp of wine before Aziraphale thought of something.   
  
“What should we do? D’you suppose we could re-gift Hexa perhaps?”

Crowley mulled it over then a slow grin spread across his features. 

“Yeah… that could work. Bonus gift for Gabriel...” Aziraphale caught his expression and he could see cogs turning in his demon’s head. 

“Oh Crowley, you’re not considering  _ doing  _ anything to Hexa before re-gifting it are you?”

“Well one of us could. Depends, d’you think he’d like a hellish minion or another angelic one?”

“I think perhaps angelic would be safer, given where it’d be living, in case it came upon any puddles of holy water up there, or in case people watered the plant on top with holy water by mistake.”

“Good point - your job then. Not yet though. Wait until we’re ready to do the dowry. We can tell him it’s a traditional human gift to give appliances. I mean usually it’s a washing machine or something but I reckon a sentient plant carrying robot could be just the thing. But I’m keeping the succulent - I’m putting a nice spiky cactus on top.”

“But what if it walks into Gabriel’s ankles?”   
  
Crowley guffawed. “Then I’ll be hoping the onboard camera feed still sends data back to my phone so I can save it and watch it on repeat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok - google "Damascus goat kid" - cute eh? Now google "Damascus goat" and TREMBLE IN FEAR. 
> 
> They're scary. Gabriel is going to wonder what the hell happened when it grows up. 
> 
> Woodenleg goats, aka fainting goats carry a gene that makes their muscles go rigid when they get surprised or excited, so they go stiff and fall over as if fainting. It doesn't hurt them, and they get up again after. As they get older some of them get better control of it and just get a little stiff legged for a few seconds instead of falling over. 
> 
> Shitland ponies is how I spell it - they're concentrated evil. This is a hill I will die on. I've known way too many of the little fuzzy bastards. They are especially evil if you happen to be a farrier, on a par with donkeys. 
> 
> Are you wondering why Crowley has collected a shitland pony as well? All will become clear. (Potential spoiler below...) 
> 
> \----------------------  
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> 100 internet points to anyone who got the "You Bastard" reference!
> 
> It's a reference to the late Sir Terry Pratchett, co-author of Good Omens. In his discworld novel "Pyramids" he puts forth that Camels decide that their name is whatever gets yelled at them most frequently. You Bastard is the greatest mathematician on the Disc. He is a camel who can do complex equations in his head. Most camels can. He is most put out when someone mistakes him for "Evil-Smelling-Bugger" or "Evil-Minded-Son-Of-A-Bitch", who are highly respected mathematician camels who live elsewhere.


	34. Untitled Goose Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is still collecting items for Aziraphale's dowry. There's a lot to organise, so he gets Aziraphale to look after one of them for a few hours while he takes care of other things. Chaos ensues.

Aziraphale eyed the large pet carrier box warily. Something inside hissed angrily. He lifted his gaze to the demon carrying the box, skeptical and cautious. 

“And what, pray tell, is this?”

“Hjonkers,” Crowley grinned. 

“Honkers?”

“No, Hjonkers. He’s a goose. He’s the last part of the dowry I had to put together to win your hand in marriage, Angel.” Crowley gave a soppy grin and leaned forward to kiss Aziraphale, causing the goose to hiss again and Aziraphale to jump back in surprise instead. 

“And you’re going to let it loose in the house?”

“Only for a few hours, it’ll be fine, just while I go and organise the final touches for the other bits. I’m sure you can goose-sit for a bit. It seems cruel to leave him cooped up in his crate for a few hours. Be better for him to stretch his legs and get a bit of freedom before delivery.”

Very much against his better judgement, Aziraphale nodded, and took several steps back, as Crowley opened the door of the crate. There was a brief moment of still silence, then a long, white neck snaked out of the door and two beady eyes surveyed the room, weighing up the opportunities for mischief. 

Hjonkers took a step forward, then another… then he was out of the crate. Suddenly he stood up on tippy toes and spread his wings wide, flapping them with a loud “HONK!” as he stretched. Aziraphale leapt backwards again and his own wings burst into being reflexively as if to ward off the challenger. Hjonkers looked surprised, and somewhat taken aback at this new, strange and much larger goose before him. He put his head on one side with a quiet, questioning hiss. 

Aziraphale hissed back. Crowley looked on in mild surprise, a half grin quirked his features at the scene before him. 

“Right, well, looks like you’ve got this all under control then, Angel. I’ll be off, see you in a few hours, my love.”

Aziraphale didn’t take his eyes off the goose. “Yes, of course. See you later, love.” He lifted his wings a little higher defensively as Hjonkers took a wary step towards him. Crowley backed out of the door and left them to it. 

Aziraphale stepped sideways, wings still wide in a defensive posture, and placed the sofa firmly between himself and Hjonkers. The bird tipped his head at him, then slowly lowered his own wings and folded them away with a shake that culminated in a tail wiggle, then cast his gaze around the flat. He began to walk about, inspecting things here and there as Aziraphale watched carefully. 

First, Hjonkers made his way around the sofa and inspected the contents of the low coffee table. He grabbed the corner of a magazine in his beak and tugged it off the table, bringing with it another two magazines and a book which had been on top, plus a pen, and a spare pair of Crowley’s sunglasses. It all fell on the floor in a clatter and he raised his wings again and hissed in response. Aziraphale rolled his eyes then spread his own wings wider and feinted toward the bird, trying to intimidate it away from the table. 

“Go on, shoo!”

Hjonkers honked. 

Aziraphale straightened his shoulders and flapped decisively, stepping forward with more authority than he felt, and was gratified to see the goose back off a little. He bent over and began to pick up the fallen items. A split second later, Hjonkers bit him on the backside. 

Aziraphale yelped and stood upright abruptly, spun on the offending bird and noticed he had taken the opportunity to pick up the sunglasses. 

“Give those back, you beastly bird!”

“HONK!”

Aziraphale made a grab for the sunglasses, but Hjonkers backed off and waddled toward the plant room. Bob was sitting on the floor in the study, idly flipping a ping pong ball around with his whiskers, trying to hit a little set of goalposts he’d designated, which were in fact just the legs of the throne. He beeped in alarm as the white feathery creature waddled in. He wasn’t used to ducks outside the park. 

“No, it’s a goose, not a duck, Bob,” Aziraphale explained as he tried to corner the mischievous creature and retrieve the sunglasses. Bob spun around and followed, causing the goose to pause to hiss at the inquisitive roomba, dropping the sunglasses in the process. 

Aziraphale swept down and seized the shades triumphantly, only for his success to be short-lived as Hjonkers noticed the potted plants all around him. He pecked at one, nipping a leaf off. 

“NO! Bad Hjonkers! You leave those plants alone!”

Hjonkers turned his gaze on the angel slowly, blinked, then whipped his head around again to peck off another leaf. 

At this point, Bob rallied and charged at the feathered interloper, running over one webbed foot and startling it into action, as Hjonkers fled the plant room in a flurry of feathers and deafening honking noises. Bob gave chase, along with Aziraphale. Lydia watched the trio erupt from the plant room doorway and joined in, not knowing what was going on, but determined to be part of it. 

And then Aziraphale tripped over Hexa…

He lay on his front, confused, then felt something peck one of his own wing feathers out. 

“OUCH!” 

Aziraphale rolled hastily onto his back to glare up at the goose, who was holding one pilfered angel feather in his beak. He gave a slightly muffled honk, then waddled off again. 

“Hellish bird,” Aziraphale grumbled, clambering to his feet again and flapping his wings twice as he regained his balance. “Come on you two, let’s herd this feathered fiend into somewhere that he can’t do so much damage…”

* * *

Crowley returned, checking his watch as he opened the door, to a scene of carnage. 

White feathers of various sizes were dotted here and there, things were all over the floor having been knocked off tables and surfaces. He stepped forward then his foot just kept going as he slid helpless with a startled squawk as his legs flew up in front of him and he landed hard on his backside with a thud. 

A long streak of goose poo on the floor revealed the cause of his slip. He cursed and clambered to his feet awkwardly, rubbing at his sore bum, and looked around. 

“Angel?”

Crowley walked through the apartment until he came to the bedroom, where the number of feathers and general detritus indicated some kind of struggle, and found Aziraphale with his wings out, Bob, and Lydia all sitting in front of the ensuite bathroom door, looking annoyed. Aziraphale looked up as his fiancée came in, and flung him a venomous look. 

“What happened here, Angel?”

“Don’t you ‘Angel’ me, you fiend - you unleashed this hellion of chaos upon this household!”

Crowley approached cautiously and dropped to his knees in front of Aziraphale. 

“I’m sorry, love, are you ok? Are those your feathers?”

“Mine AND Hjonkers’ both. We had a difference of opinion.”

“A difference of opinion? What on?”

“On whether he would submit to being corralled in the bathroom or not. He was very much of the opinion of ‘not’, whilst I was strongly in favour of ‘get your feathery honky derrière in there this instant or I’ll smite you.’” 

“You win?”

“Only after the beast pecked several of my feathers out as well. The vile creature is safely detained, but from the sound of it, your bathroom may never be the same again.”

“He pecked you?”

“Yes.”

Crowley’s features darkened and his tongue forked a little. 

“RIGHT.”

Crowley stood again and extended a hand to help Aziraphale to his feet. He removed his shades, then snapped his fingers to summon the crate to his other hand, and let go of Aziraphale’s to open the door. Bob and Lydia shuffled back warily. 

Crowley flung the door open and pinned the goose with a thousand watt glare, allowed his demonic black wings to erupt into existence behind him and placed the crate on the floor between them. Unleashing his full demonic aura he hissed at the offending avian. 

_“You are going to get in thisss box right NOW, if you are not in the crate within three sssecondsss flat, you are going in the bloody OVEN. Do NOT messs with me becaussse quite frankly, you bit my angel, and you look delicioussssss.”_

Hjonkers took one look at the demon and moved so fast he almost teleported into the crate, reached out his neck, grabbed the metal mesh of the door in his beak, and yanked it shut behind him. 

Crowley straightened. Flapped his wings once with a small thunderclap and banished them, cricked his neck and turned to Aziraphale.   
  
“I’m sorry, love. I swear on everything that is unholy that I will never again bring a goose home unless it’s ready to roast.”

Bob, satisfied that the excitement was over, trundled off to vacuum up all the feathers. 

* * *

Gabriel tapped at his phone screen with a silly smile on his features as he texted back and forth with Beelzebub. He felt something tickle his hair and reached up to grab it. 

It was a white feather.

“Oh no… not again…” He shot to his feet and manifested his wings again, straining to check them for missing feathers as more fell around him in a slow white flurry. After a few minutes of panicked flapping, his phone rang. He stabbed the screen and Beelzebub’s face appeared on the screen. 

“Hey, Captain BuzzButt, why didn’t you reply?”

“Don’t call me that,” Gabriel hissed urgently, still trying to get an arm under one of his six wings to yank it forward and into view. “I’m checking my wings.”

“What for?”

“I’m moulting… I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know - feathers keep erupting out of the ethereal plane around me, it’s the only explanation I can think of.”

A green leaf fell on his shoulder.

“I also appear to be moulting plant matter?”

“Plants?”

“Apparently.”

“This has got Crowley written all over it.”

“You think so?”

“I’d put money on it.”

“Oh dear.”

“Anyway, take your jacket and shirt off.”

“Why?”

“So you can hold your phone up and I can check your wings out better for you of course.” Beelzebub rolled their eyes. 

“Oh, I see, of course…”

Beelzebub grinned. This new phone was definitely an upgrade on their old one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with thanks to the human "Hjonkers" from discord for the name inspiration ;)


	35. Dowry Delivery Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Crowley to deliver all of his fiendish plans to Gabriel. Hexa gets a surprise, we have a cameo from a certain international express person, Gabriel gets a series of surprises, we learn what Tina was training the goats with, all hell breaks loose, and that's *before* Hjonkers is released...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **BUT FIRST! Two lovely new fan arts to share!**
> 
> **WriteItOtt drew a cute[Bob fan art here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516542/chapters/64628509)**
> 
> **Elwyst did another adorable[Bob and Crowley piece for Snektember,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26333656/chapters/64643551) for the chapter where Crowley takes a nap in a bowl on Bob's back and gets them stuck under the sofa. **

Crowley placed Hjonkers’ box next to the door then went to the plant room to retrieve Hexa. He removed the succulent from it’s lid, and selected an extremely sharp pointy cactus to replace it, whistling happily to himself as he fitted the plant to its new host. 

“Ok, Aziraphale? You’re up.”

Aziraphale regarded the arachnid-like creature warily. “Should we put it in a carry box as well, do you suppose?” Crowley nodded and snapped one up. The angel rolled his shoulders, took a breath, and snapped at the little robot. There was a moment, then it tipped back slightly to take in the angel and demon with it’s visual input. 

Hexa raised one leg hesitantly, and waved politely at them. Aziraphale beamed and waved back. 

“Welcome to the world, Hexa. We’ve found you a lovely new forever home with my former boss, I’m Aziraphale, I’m an angel, and so is your new father Gabriel, although he’s an archangel. This is Crowley, he’s a demon, and he’s going to be driving you over to meet Gabriel. Follow me, I want to show you the spelling board in the study, we’ll ask Gabriel to make you one as well, but feel free to ask any questions you wish of us before you set off.”

* * *

Bob and Lydia watched from the doorway as Hexa stomped over the spelling board, using her legs to point to letters far faster than either of the other appliances could manage. She tip-tapped away so fast, dancing over the keyboard, that it was a struggle to keep up. 

“So you want to name your cacti “Spike?” Crowley asked. Hexa nodded her body up and down in affirmation. At least nods and shakes were easier with her articulated limbs. “And you want a pen?” Hexa nodded again. 

Crowley sellotaped a pen to one of her legs, and snapped up a whiteboard then placed it on the floor for Hexa to walk over. She began deftly writing out her words instead of tapping them on the spelling board. Aziraphale fetched a sponge from the bathroom and taped it to another of her legs so that she could also erase her words to write over them as she went if she wished. After watching her for a few minutes, Crowley snapped up some tools and began bodging together a better retractable pen holder for one of her legs so it could be a permanent fixture. “Don’t worry, we’ll send the whiteboard up with you as well.” He reassured her. 

Hexa finally appeared to notice Bob and Lydia lurking in the doorway, regarding her with deep suspicion. She paused and waved at them with one leg. Bob turned to look at Crowley questioningly. 

“Yes, she’s sentient now, but she’s not staying, she’s going to live with Gabriel.” Bob looked mollified at this news, as did Lydia, and both approached the new bot a little more politely than recently. Hexa made a polite little bow, tucking one leg under her body as one might sweep their arm across their middle when bowing, and leaving another leg waved wide. 

Lydia beeped in recognition and dipped her mowing height in return. Bob merely beeped, then circled Hexa warily, as she spun to watch him. He made a full circuit and stopped again next to Lydia. Some kind of peace treaty appeared to have been arrived at finally, so Aziraphale told the appliances to bid their goodbyes, and held the box for Hexa to step into for safe travel. She waved at the other appliances as Aziraphale carried the box out of the door, while Crowley carried Hjonkers. 

* * *

Tina pulled up outside Broadgate tower as instructed in the horsebox, finding a space reserved for the lorry as promised by Mr. Crowley, coned off for her convenience. Her assistant Nguba hopped out to move the cones for her, then the lad jumped back in the cab again to wait. They only had a few minutes to wait until Mr. Crowley’s distinctive Bentley pulled up in front of them. He stepped out and made a phone call, while giving a smile and a nod to Tina and Nguba in the lorry. 

A few minutes later, a young guy with tall black hair sculpted like bunny ears bustled out of the building, and approached Mr. Crowley, who handed him a large pet transport crate which jostled slightly as it was moved. A white feather puffed out from one of the air holes. Mr. Crowley then reached back into the car and retrieved another box which was somewhat less lively. 

He sauntered over to the lorry as the humans disembarked, with a wide grin plastered on his features. 

“Hi, this is Eric, he’s lending a hand. Eric, this is Tina and…?”   
  
“Nguba” the other lad supplied, wondering if he could perhaps style his own afro into a more interesting shape like Eric’s, although it wouldn’t fit under his riding helmet when he rode, so probably best not to, he thought to himself. 

“Right,” Crowley nodded. “Well let's get this little herd of reprobates upstairs shall we? Eric has got Hjonkers in the crate, can you two lead in Balthasar, Gaspar, Melchior and You Bastard between you?”

Tina nodded. “Nguba can lead the 3 kids on their collars and I can wrangle You Bastard. He’s been answering well to his name by the way, I think he prefers it to his old one. Certainly suits him better anyway,” she finished drily, stepping around to the back of the lorry to lower the ramp. “What’s in the other crate then?”

Crowley laughed. “Just another work project, this one is on legs instead of wheels. Anyway, we’ll be taking them into the building, there’s a large service lift just off the reception area we can use.”

He stood back as You Bastard charged down the ramp, towing Tina behind him. She braced her feet and reeled him back in on the leadrope. Nguba followed a minute after, leading the three goat kids, all very wiggly and jumpy, down the ramp as well. 

Just then, an International Express van pulled up in front of the Bentley, and a courier stepped out. He nodded to Crowley, and began to unload more boxes from the back of his vehicle. 

“Hi Leslie, thanks for helping out, can you bring those boxes up after us? You’ll probably need two trips at least, use the wheeled trolley. You’d better bring the strong box first, that’s got the proper valuable stuff in it.” Crowley had recruited the courier to help deliver the Gold, Silver, bolts of cloth and spices, so that they could more easily bring all of the dowry in in one go, and then scarper and leave Gabriel to deal with the fallout. 

* * *

Uriel’s eyes opened wide and she dropped the stack of folders she’d been carrying across the upper Heaven lobby as she took in the spectacle that emerged from the service lift. The demon Crowley stepped out first, carrying a large box, followed by a disposable demon carrying an even larger box which made hissing sounds.    
  
Behind the disposable demon was a blonde human leading a dark brown very hairy quadruped of some description, and behind her, a taller young human leading 3 small, bouncy, not quite as hairy quadrupeds. 

A moment later, the regular lift pinged to the Heaven’s lobby level, and a courier emerged pushing a two wheeled trolley stacked with more boxes. 

“Do I even want to ask what demonic shenanigans you’re up to this time, Crowley?” Uriel demanded. 

“Nope.” Crowley grinned. 

Uriel rolled her eyes and made herself scarce. Whatever it was, she wanted no part of it. 

Gabriel’s secretarial angel looked up from their desk as the cavalcade entered the waiting room, alarmed at the sight of several earth creatures accompanying what looked like a few humans and two demons into the room. 

“Uh… what… what are they?” The Secretarial angel enquired nervously. One of the quadrupedal creatures had bounced up to their desk, grabbed a mouthful of paperwork and had begun to eat it. They struggled in vain for a moment to wrestle the pile of memos from its mouth, then gave up and retreated, picking their feet up off the floor and cowering on their office chair. “Just go in, please… just go.” They pleaded, waving at Gabriel’s office door, which swung open at the miracle. 

Gabriel looked up from his desk in surprise as Crowley walked in, proudly carrying a large box. 

“I come bearing gifts!” He declared, placing his box down on the floor and ushering in a human with a trolley of other boxes of varying sizes. The human unloaded the boxes then left to fetch more. There were two more humans, and another demon behind him. Gabriel eyed them warily - there were quadrupedal animals accompanying them. 

Crowley miracled up a Stanley knife and began to open boxes. “So: here we have… well, we ended up at 6 metres of silk in the end - four of dove grey and two of lilac, Same of highest grade Merino wool fabric, one rather nice camel hair coat, I had your tailor run it up for you specially…”

Crowley held up the long winter coat and turned it around before miracling up a coat rack and hanging it up and turning back to the other boxes. 

“Quarter kilo of saffron - d’you know that was the most expensive thing? Set me back over £60,000, It’s about three times the price of gold at the moment. Anyway lemme see..” He fished the list from his pocket and consulted it, before tapping another box.

“Got you a whole kilo of pepper, whole kilo of paprika, because I’m feeling generous, three kilos of finest Cornish rock salt…” (Which Crowley had, indeed, stolen from a grit bin at the side of the road), “... And in this lock box we have twelve grammes of silver and two grammes of gold.”

Crowley spun the combination on the metal box as Leslie the International Express courier re-appeared with the other boxes of salt and spice. The demon then passed the open lock box to Gabriel over his desk. “There’s the precious metals, but you probably want to put that saffron in a safe to be honest. Now… the rest!”

He thanked Leslie, who left them to it, then knelt on the floor and opened the box he’d carried in. Hexa beeped and walked out on her six spider-like legs. She looked up at Gabriel, stopped, and did a small, polite bow. Gabriel stared back in confusion. 

“Say hello to your new minion, this is Hexa. The plant she’s carrying is a cactus named Spike apparently….” Crowley fished in the box for the small whiteboard and set it on the floor. Hexa used her wipe-clean marker pen to write a careful, and very tidy “HELLO” on the board, then stepped back to take in Gabriel’s reaction. 

Gabriel smiled nervously. 

“Um…” The archangel began, unsure. “What…  _ is  _ it?” 

_ “She,” _ Crowley stressed, snapping his fingers so that Tina and Nguba wouldn’t find anything strange about the entire interaction, “... Is named Hexa, she’s an angelically possessed sentient robot whose primary purpose at present is to babysit Spike the cactus.”

Gabriel looked blank. 

“Why do I need a cactus?”   
  
“Plants are a traditional human gift, and to take the hassle out of caring for it, you get a heavenly plant nanny to care for it for you, she’s very clever and can do other things as well, I’m sure you’ll get to know her better over the next few weeks. She was very eager to meet you as a matter of fact.”

Hexa waved one leg shyly. Gabriel found himself waving back, still somewhat confused. Hexa considered the vast panoramic windows that looked out over all the cities of the world, and ambled over to one to sit in the best sunspot. She hunkered down and began to rotate her cactus in the light, taking a nap. 

“And the… creatures?” Gabriel enquired. Crowley grinned. 

“Ah yes, well as promised, three goats. I chose youngsters, Aziraphale and I have blessed them with supernaturally long lives, but you’ll still need to give them ample water, hay, fresh grass and space to play. Lots of toys and things to climb and jump off too. Nguba? You can let them go now.”

Nguba unclipped the lead ropes from the three collars and watched as all three immediately bounced into action, skittering across the polished floor and making a beeline for the pile of boxes and Gabriel’s desk. 

“I put name tags on their collars until you get used to them, but the tiny black and white one is named Balthasar. The bigger black one with long ears is Melchior, and the white one is Gaspar.”

Balthasar leapt up onto the pile of boxes then jumped off it again with a mid-air wiggle. Melchior jumped onto Gabriel’s desk and promptly started devouring the paperwork while Gaspar began headbutting Gabriel’s knee, shunting his wheely office chair an inch or two across the floor with each shove. Gabriel grabbed the edge of the table trying to hold himself in place before giving up and simply standing, letting Gaspar have the chair to play with. He tried to wrestle a sheaf of paperwork from Melchior’s mouth, but lost his grip and fell on his backside instead. 

Balthasar ran over, jumped onto the office chair as it spun around, then leapt off and onto Gabriel’s shoulders as he sat on the floor, before bouncing off again. Melchior, just growing into his voice, screamed loudly, on general principles, and Gaspar promptly fainted at the noise. 

Gabriel gazed, aghast, at the apparently dead goat on the floor. The next moment Death arrived among them with a small, polite thunderclap. He was wielding a scythe and looked down at the goat with interest. He poked it with the blunt end of his scythe handle curiously. 

“IS IT DEAD?” Death intoned in polite enquiry. 

“Nah,” Crowley replied easily. “Just resting, he’ll be fine in a minute, not a problem.” Melchior jumped off the desk and began to nibble the corner of Death’s robe. Death glared at him. Melchior ignored him and carried on munching until Death yanked the robe from his mouth.    
  
“AH. I SEE. I SHALL BE OFF THEN.” Death disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

Across the room, Tina and Nguba, thanks to Crowley’s miracle, merely stood in untroubled silence at the chaos. They weren’t fully aware of anything that was going on, nor would they remember anything other than what Crowley told them to afterwards. 

Gaspar blinked and wobbled his way to his feet again. Melchior, delighted to see his friend vertical again, bleated loudly in his ear. Gaspar promptly fell over again, stiff as a board. 

There was another small thunderclap and Death reappeared. 

“OH, IS IT DEAD THIS TIME?”   
  
“No, still not dead,” Crowley reassured him with a wave of his hand. “Just passed out again.”

Death sighed and disappeared once more before Melchior could find another corner of robe to chew on. Balthasar leapt back onto Gabriel’s shoulders. He carefully lifted the tiny goat up in his hands and set it on the floor before standing again, brushing the dust from his trousers with mild distaste. 

“Why on earth do humans have these creatures anyway?” Gabriel asked. 

Crowley shrugged. “Goat’s milk, cheese, pets, sometimes they eat them - although I’m sure as someone who forgoes consuming gross matter, you are only going to be keeping these as pets.”

“Oh,” Gabriel uttered, he hadn’t exactly planned this far ahead. 

“We’re not done yet though!” Crowley grinned. “Your list was quite specific…” He went over and took You Bastard’s leadrope from Tina. “Ok, you two can both go home now, you’ll find an extra thank-you bonus in your bank account. You will remember meeting Mr. Gabriel who was a very nice man, and you were very impressed with the quality of care the animals are going to receive. Gabriel’s secretary will send you occasional photo updates by email so you can see how well they’re doing. You’ll have a safe and uneventful drive home.”

Crowley snapped his fingers, Tina and Nguba smiled at him and left. You Bastard reached out to try chewing on Crowley’s jacket, but the demon deftly sidestepped, then led the shetland pony over to Gabriel’s desk, where the goats were still running amok. He unclipped the leadrope, and the pony began sniffing around, before taking a bite out of the corner of the wooden desk. 

“And one very special Scottish camel.” Crowley declared proudly. 

“A what?”

“Scottish camel, rare breed. Sad case really, he had a hump but it fell off. They’re much smaller and hairier in this region of the world, due to the climate. Very easy keepers though - Again he’s going to need plenty of fresh water and hay, but not too much fresh grass or he’ll get fat, and he might get laminitis if you let that happen.”

“Lami-what?”

“Pony-sssorry, camel disease. Very serious Scottish camel disease, hurts their feet. Anyway, his name is ‘You Bastard’, I’m afraid they’re not known for their good natures, but perhaps you’ll have a good angelic influence on him, hmm?”

Gabriel stared in disbelief at the four creatures running riot around him. Balthasar had his head stuck in the wastepaper basket. He shook it off with a clatter and Gaspar fainted again at the sound. 

There was another small thunderclap. Death looked down at the little white goat kid curiously again. “IS IT…?”   
  
Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh and made shooing motions with both hands at the grim reaper. “Look, I  _ know _ , but he just… he just  **_does_ ** that…”

Death gave a sigh of his own and disappeared again.

Gabriel felt a tugging sensation on his scarf and looked down to see Melchior chewing on it happily. Gaspar was on his feet again and now chasing Balthasar around the office at high speed. You Bastard decided to join in, bucking and farting his way around the room with the occasional high-spirited squeal. 

“How am I supposed to  _ deal  _ with all of these?” Gabriel wailed. 

“Oh easy,” Crowley replied with a wide smile. “Goat horn.”

“Goat horn?”

“Yeah, special goat horn, keeps them right in line, see?”

Crowley withdrew a bright green plastic kazoo from his shirt pocket and blew it. All of a sudden three goats and one pony-camel were lined up in front of him, looking up expectantly. He miracled a small handful of pony cubes and distributed them to the animals. He handed the kazoo to Gabriel. 

“Just blow this whenever you want them to come to you. Make sure you reward them with food at least half of the time though or they’ll stop bothering. These are pony nuts, or pony cubes, I’ll have a few sacks sent up.”

Gabriel blew into the kazoo cautiously. Three goat heads and one small equine head turned to look at him, then all four rushed over to surround him expectantly. There was another, not dissimilar noise all of a sudden, from the final box, held in Eric the disposable demon’s arms. 

Gabriel looked up warily. Eric smiled nervously, put the box on the floor, and at a nod from Crowley, fled.

“And last but by no means least, a bonus gift I promised you, meet Hjonkers…”

Crowley opened the box. 

Hjonkers snaked his long neck out and regarded the archangel critically. After a moment, the rest of the goose followed. He spread his wings wide and hissed. Gabriel jumped back slightly. Crowley looked at his watch. 

“Oh dear me, is that the time? I really must be getting back to Aziraphale, I promised I’d take him out to dinner this evening. Anyway, enjoy your dowry, nice seeing you, byeee…”

He slunk to the door and heard a kazoo. He sped up slightly and was halfway out of the door before Gabriel’s voice rang out over the chaos. 

“Does the goat horn work on the… the… what d’you call it - the Hjonkers?”

“Goose,” Crowley replied, “... and no.” 

With that he shut the door behind him and sped off, trying desperately not to giggle at the cacophony of honks, hisses and yells from behind Gabriel’s office door. A goat bleated again, there was a small thud, a quiet thunderclap. 

“No, he’s  _ still  _ not dead, will you  _ bugger off!” _

A whinny, clattering of many small hooves on the floor, more honking, and the sound of 6 archangelic wings flapping in a panic, cut off as the lift doors closed behind him. 


	36. Hexa to the rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (With apologies for late posting, I lost an entire day to extreme fatigue and pain). 
> 
> Gabriel deals with the fallout of his requests from Crowley. Beelzebub has at least some answers for him.

_PREFACE:_   
  
_OK, before we begin, I just want to share this with you, because I ordered the "Terry Pratchett: His World" slipcase edition book signed by Paul Kidby. It arrived a couple of days ago and I got to this passage and FREAKED THE F*CK OUT:_

_Because I swear to Frances McDormand **I had NO BLOODY CLUE that Sir Terry himself ACTUALLY OWNED A ROBOT VACUUM CLEANER NAMED "BOB"!** _

_I legitimatley flipped and couldn't even breathe properly because **what are the bloody odds?** It would appear that Pterry's "Bob" would also have been a Roomba, as at that time only two firms were making robo vacs, and only Roomba had a yellow model. I REALLY need to ask Rob Wilkins if it had googly eyes on it, because honestly I wouldn't put it above either of them to have done so. I must have been channelling my inner Pratchett when I created Bob. I hope he'd be amused that I gave Bob to Crowley.  
  
Anyway, on with the story: _

* * *

* * *

Bob scooted quietly through to Lydia and gave her a gentle nudge. She flicked on one LED in question, and Bob wiggled to the left to indicate she should follow him. She did so, matching his sneaky, slow trundle back toward the study, where they paused in the doorway to watch Crowley laughing uproariously while watching something on his phone. Bob giggled by revving his motors quietly. 

Lydia scooted forward so she could glimpse what was on the screen...

* * *

Gabriel… was not having a good day. 

His scarf was gone, devoured by Melchior. His nice wooden desk had been chewed by You Bastard, Balthasar had commandeered his office chair and was sleeping on it. Gaspar was currently conscious and for once actually eating the hay provided for him. All of them had left contributions from their respective digestive systems all over the floor. 

And Hjonkers…

… Hjonkers was the reason that Gabriel was currently sitting on a light fitting by the ceiling while the beastly bird hissed underneath him, amidst a swathe of plucked archangel feathers, and a dropped plastic kazoo.

The office door creaked open. Gabriel’s secretary poked their head through the narrow gap, ready to retreat at the slightest indication that the goose might make a move toward the door and whispered up at him. 

“Prince Beelzebub is here to see you, sir.”

“Well show them in!” Gabriel snapped, irritably, from his perch near the rafters. 

Beelzebub sauntered in and took in the scene of carnage. They looked up. 

“I have no idea where to start with all of this.”

You Bastard’s head shot up at their voice, and he peered around the corner of the desk at Beelzebub, who returned his quizzical gaze. 

“Hey, what’re you doing up here?”

“Crowley gave him to me.” Gabriel replied.

“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking him,” Beelzebub shot back, and walked over to You Bastard, who flicked an ear back warily. “How did _you_ get to come up here? You were only on earth for five years, you’ve got another good twenty four - twenty five before you’re done, and then you’re supposed to come back to base for a fresh corporation before reassignment.”

“He’s _what?”_ Gabriel called down in confusion. 

“He’s one of ours,” Beelzebub yelled up at him irritably. “All shetlands are, we send them up to earth on missions, when they’ve completed a tour of duty they come back to hell for a fresh pony corporation then back up top again. They’re not meant to get all the way up here, how’d he sneak in?”

Gabriel was baffled. “Pony? He’s a Scottish camel.”

“He’s a _what?”_ Beelzebub closed their eyes, shook their head, and pinched the bridge of their nose in exasperation. “No, don’t bother. I got it - he’s part of the Crowley gift set you asked for as well isn’t he? So… Crowley told you he was a camel, right? I don’t even want to know what the hell that was all about.” Beelzebub looked up at Gabriel again. “And will you get down from there? I’m getting a crick in my neck talking to you.”

“But the Hjonkers…” Gabriel whimpered, looking down at the feathered menace below. 

“Hjonkers?”

Gabriel pointed down. 

“That’s a goose.”

Hjonkers had been so fixated on Gabriel that they hadn’t spared a glance for Beelzebub. 

“I forgot the name for them. Is he one of yours as well?”

Beelzebub looked at the bird critically and shrugged. “Maybe. All the Canada ones are, not sure about the Embden geese - kind of a case-by-case basis.” Beelzebub ambled over to the goose, who finally turned his head to look at them, and hissed. 

“Don’t bother,” they told Hjonkers. “Which department are you from then?”

Hjonkers honked.

“Huh, guess that explains it then,” they looked up at Gabriel. “He’s freelance.”

“HONK!”

“... and he wants to go for a swim, and you haven’t got a pond in here.”

Gabriel snapped, and a wall of the already huge office rolled back twenty feet, then instantly became filled with a pond surrounded by green grass. Hjonkers gave him one last glare, then waddled over and leapt in to bathe. The archangel breathed a sigh of relief and fluttered down from the rafters. It was a rather wonky flutter, given how many of his feathers had been pecked out.

He landed next to Gaspar, who promptly fainted. 

There was a small thunderclap. 

Death looked at the prone goat with a vague hope in his expression. 

**_“Oh will you just sod off!?”_ ** Gabriel yelled, frazzled to the end of his tether. 

Death gave him an affronted look.

“JUST DOING MY JOB,” Death intoned peevishly. “I CAN’T HELP IT IF THE SIGNALS ARE MIXED UP BECAUSE AN EARTH CREATURE KEEPS PASSING OUT AND SENDING AN UNCONSCIOUS SIGNAL FROM HEAVEN - IT ALL READS THE SAME AT MY END.”

Death flung Gabriel a dirty look and disappeared again. Gabriel tried to sink down into his office chair, forgetting it was occupied already by Balthazar, who bit him on the backside. 

Beelzebub waited several minutes, and then joined the whimpering archangel under his own desk. They patted his shoulder in the manner of one who isn’t at all sure about this whole ‘comforting people’ business. 

Hexa ambled over, dragging her whiteboard on a length of string across the floor behind her. She nudged it into position in front of Gabriel, deployed her retractable pen that Crowley had fitted her with, and drew a smiley face on the whiteboard, then patted Gabriel’s knee with one leg. 

Gabriel, head still on his knees, reached out, unseeing to pat her back in return, quite forgetting Spike on top...

* * *

Crowley cackled as he watched the recording of Gabriel yelling and Beelzebub plucking cactus spines from his hand while Hexa wrote an apology on her whiteboard. 

“Oh Angel, you should see the chaos up there. It’s marvellous. I have to say, this is my best work yet. This is better than the M25. Hell, this is better than _Manchester.”_

Aziraphale came through from the kitchen, his apron dusted in flour from another baking experiment.

“Are you still spying on my old boss, you devilish creature?”

“You know it, and you love me for it.”

“I love you for being a devilish creature, not for spying.”

Crowley turned the screen towards him. “Oh come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s funny…”

On the screen, Hjonkers stepped out of his artificial pond, having bathed to his satisfaction, and eyed up Gabriel sitting on the floor while Beelzebub used a pair of tweezers to remove cactus spines from the archangel’s hand. He began to waddle over. 

* * *

Sensing Gabriel’s vulnerability, Hexa made a decision.

She stood up, and firmly placed herself between goose and Gabriel. As Hjonkers approached, she dipped her housing forward, showing off Spike’s spines toward the bird.   
  
Hjonkers paused, thinking. 

Hexa took a deliberate step forward.

Hjonkers stood his ground, at least right up until the literal point that the first spike nudged his chest. With a loud “HONK!” and explosion of flapping wings, Hjonkers fled several feet before turning to hiss at Hexa. 

Hexa regarded him stoically, then took another step forwards. This time, Hjonkers took a matching step backwards, wary. Hexa settled down, turning her visual input to follow the goose’s cautious circling at a distance, occasionally she took a step or two to the left or right, until he got the point that she was forming a one-robot line of protection around Gabriel. 

Just then, Gabriel’s secretary knocked and opened the door, then walked in with a stack of files. Hjonkers eyed the open doorway, flung a glaring look at Hexa, and ran for the exit, wings out, charging through the lobby and making for the exit to the heavenly outdoors. 

Soon a series of distant honks and angelic screams erupted in a trail of chaos across heaven. 

Gabriel’s secretary met the archangel’s gaze in quiet horror, then an unspoken agreement was arrived at - neither would admit responsibility, nor would they make any effort to recapture Hjonkers and return him to Gabriel’s office. He was heaven’s problem now. They left the stack of paperwork on his desk and retreated without a word. 

A little while later, Beelzebub emerged from Gabriel’s office, followed by You Bastard, who aimed a nip at the secretary as he passed by, making them yelp. 

“Where are you taking Gabriel’s camel?” They asked, confused. 

“Gabe gave him to me as a gift. New hellish minion.” 

Gabriel’s secretary breathed a sigh of relief as the lift doors closed behind them and descended to hell again.


	37. Fireproof (ILLUSTRATED)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this, then the ineffables did something silly, so I had to stop, go and illustrate it, then come back and carry on - pretty much like Bob's "SQUIRREL!" moment. Crowley has to visit his bosses for something.

Crowley’s phone timer went off. He ambled through to the kitchen, opened the oven door and casually reached in, bare-handed to remove the piping hot metal baking tray of Yorkshire puddings, then set them on a trivet so as not to mark the countertop. 

Aziraphale looked up from his rummaging in the fridge with a look of mild disapproval. 

“What?”

“I bought you those lovely oven gloves for Christmas darling, and you never use them.”

“Angel, I’m _fireproof._ Besides, I don’t want to get them dirty.”

“Admit it, it’s just because they’re shaped like little snake heads isn’t it? 

Crowley avoided eye contact. 

It didn’t work. 

He could FEEL Aziraphale’s puppy dog-eyed expression. It was being repeated from the ethereal plane by approximately 9,998 more eyes doing the exact same thing and prodding insistently at his soul. 

With a resigned sigh, Crowley pulled the kitchen drawer open and fished out the offending objects - bright green and red with yellow snake eyes and a jaunty red forked tongue lolling out. He pulled them onto his fireproof hands and pouted at the angel indignantly. 

_ Illustration: GayDemonicDisaster. _

“Don’t look so disgruntled, darling, they suit you.” Aziraphale turned to take his drink through to the lounge. Crowley stuck his tongue out at him once he was in the hallway. 

“I saw that.” Aziraphale commented mildly.

Crowley held up the snake mitts and pulled a face, doing the ‘blah-blah talking hands’ movement with both snakey mouths. 

“And that,” Azirpahale called back from the next room. 

The angel sat down at the dinner table, and presently Bob trundled through, carrying the gravy boat on his back. 

“Thank you, Bob,” Aziraphale said with a smile, retrieving the jug and giving Bob a pat. Presently, Crowley appeared, grudgingly wearing the oven gloves, carrying the rest of the dishes through. As they ate, each set aside a couple of crumbs of this and that for Bob to enjoy later at the edge of the table, ready to be swept onto the floor for him. 

Crowley cleared the table of the main course plates and dishes, and reappeared with two crème brûlées in little glass ramekins. He set them on the table, then sprinkled some sugar on top, and made a point of caramelising the sugar with a gout of fire from his fingertips. Aziraphale sighed in resignation.

* * *

Lydia scooted up to Aziraphale where he sat on the park bench and nudged his shins urgently. The angel looked up as she spun around and pointed down the path slightly. 

“Oh my!” He fumbled for his mobile phone and placed a hasty text to Crowley. 

_‘Crowley, get back this instant, forget the ice creams, you’ll never guess who just turned up, hurry!’_

Crowley didn’t need telling twice, and did a record breaking high-speed saunter back from the ice cream van to Aziraphale on the bench, just in time to see what he meant. 

Further down the path, Gabriel was walking, looking distinctly ill at ease, with Hexa on a smart pale lilac leather lead. He hadn’t noticed Crowley and Aziraphale yet, and took a seat on a park bench, before unclipping Hexa’s lead and allowing her to have a wander about. She began investigating the nearby plants and flowers, carefully removing the humidity probe from Spike’s pot with one leg, to which she seemed to have had a grasping claw retrofitted, presumably on request, and poking it in the soil. 

She waited a moment, and seemed displeased, shaking her body as one might shake their head in disapproval. She stomped back to Gabriel and tapped him on the foot. Gabriel looked down at her questioningly. After a moment he snapped up a piece of chalk and placed it in the pen holder on her leg so that she could write him a message on the pavement. 

After a moment he sighed, nodded, snapped up an umbrella, then snapped his fingers to summon a short rain shower to water the park. 

Crowley hastily summoned a couple of large golf umbrellas to shield himself, Aziraphale, and their appliances as well until the unseasonably brief rainstorm subsided. Hexa ambled back over to the flowerbed, inserted the humidity probe again, and nodded in approval. 

A moment later, a distant clip-clop of tiny unshod hooves approached, and Beelzebub hove into view, with You Bastard on a leadrope alongside. As they drew level with Gabriel, Beez had to haul on the leadrope to stop the shetland from biting Gabriel, and snapped up a spiral tether to screw into the soil so that they could attach the pony’s leadrope to let him graze for a bit. 

Lydia beeped in interest and scooted over to investigate, although on the grass behind Gabriel and Beelzebub’s bench, so they didn’t notice her greeting Hexa and having a quiet beeped conversation. 

Bob, on the other hand, was trundling over the grass when something, or several somethings, rattled up his suction port, making him beep in surprise at the sensation. He backed up slightly to investigate and found a small hole in the ground, filled with nuts. 

Then another nut hit him, at high velocity, from a nearby tree. 

Bob scooted back a little further to take in the sight of a very angry squirrel sitting on a low branch chittering at him in fury at Bob having discovered, and partially emptying, one of his stashes. It threw another nut which bounced off Bob’s housing. Bob’s LEDs turned red. He surged forward. The squirrel, thinking it was safe in its tree like it was from dogs, was surprised to see the peculiar creature defying gravity and ascending rapidly up the trunk towards him. 

Fortunately for the squirrel, it was somewhat faster than Bob, and ran higher, before launching itself into the neighbouring tree. There was a brief snap, and Bob teleported to join him. The squirrel squeaked in alarm and stepped it up a notch, soon sprinting and leaping so many trees away that Bob lost track, and reluctantly snapped himself back down to the ground again. 

He trundled back to Crowley and Aziraphale again, grumbling his motors grumpily the whole way. 

Once he got back, Crowley thought it best that they make themselves scarce, given their boss’s proximity. They stood to leave, but the movement caught Beelzebub’s eye and they yelled over to him. 

“OI! Get your skinny snake arse over here!”

Crowley flinched, and glanced sidelong at Aziraphale, who shrugged. Crowley sighed and turned to face the music. He ambled down the path toward archangel and demon prince, trying to don an air of insouciance. He almost got it. 

“You’re wanted for a meeting downstairs tomorrow.” Beelzebub informed him shortly. “Also, nice try with the ‘camel.’ He’s with me now.”

“Look, Gabe, I can explain… I mean, it was just easier, where would you put a real one anyway? I mean I can still get you one if you want, I’m a demon of my word, it’d just take a little longer, I can get on it right away…”

“NO!” Gabriel barked out hastily, hands up in alarm. “Please, no. No more earth animals, no camels, nothing alive, _please,_ thank you. You’ve been _quite_ generous enough already. And definitely no more Hjonkers please.”

“They had to install a goose alarm in heaven,” Beelzebub explained. “Alerts angels when he’s in their area so they know to take cover.” 

Crowley bit his lip in a desperate effort not to laugh. 

“Snrkt… sorry. Yes. Right. So… meeting, yeah? What time?”

“2pm.”

“Right, yes, see you there then.” He nodded at Gabriel, who was looking distinctly frazzled, and hurried back to Aziraphale, rounding up the appliances, they headed home. 

* * *

Crowley wasn’t sure what to expect when he arrived in hell again the next afternoon. Bob had insisted on accompanying him, wearing his little red plastic horns and flamethrower attachment again, burping gouts of flame at any demon who got too close. Lydia trailed behind, growling her motors threateningly at anyone who didn’t make way. Somehow she was more intimidating than Bob. 

He was directed along to Dagon’s office, where she sat sorting files out. She glanced up at him with an evil grin when Crowlely came in. 

“Crowley, well well well… Beelzebub delegated this one to me, they seemed a bit grudging about the whole thing this time, but you’ve been granted another commendation.”

“Commendation? What for?” Crowley had been a bit too distracted with Aziraphale and the engagement recently to get up to too many demonic schemes.

Dagon cackled and held up a list. “Smuggling a demonic minion into heaven and unleashing him on an archangel - name of ‘You Bastard’. Smuggling a freelance contractor demon by the name of ‘Hjonkers’ into heaven and unleashing him upon the general populace, inflicting three small goats on an archangel, getting Death to join in the harrassment, and something about a cactus...” She grinned, skimming down the list. 

“Seems you’ve managed to sow a lot of chaos up there, while literally giving them exactly what they asked for, more or less, except for the camel of course, but substituting in a minor demon was a stroke of genius, it has to be said.”

Crowley shrugged. He hadn’t actually realised that either You Bastard or Hjonkers were associated with hell when he’d done it, except perhaps on an instinctive level - animal form demons weren’t his area of expertise and worked in a different department entirely. But he’d take the accolade anyway and pretend he’d meant it all along. 

“So, as usual, you get a certificate, a mention in the Infernal Times, a pay boost and a voucher for Hell’s gift shop.”

Crowley knew better than to redeem the gift voucher - Hell’s gift shop had been his idea - any damned soul wanting to leave Hell was told they were free to go, the exit was through the gift shop. No one ever got out. It was a labyrinthine edifice worthy of housing a minotaur, which, in fact, it also did. He worked in the china section, and got very snappy about anyone touching the glassware. 

“There’s also a personal note from Prince Beelzebub,” Dagon continued, and handed over an envelope. Crowley opened it cautiously. A small mosquito flew out and bit him as he read the letter. That was nothing unusual though, it was generally an indicator of how annoyed Beelzebub was when they wrote a letter as to what insect it contained alongside - at least it wasn’t a wasp or hornet this time, which was something. 

_‘Crowley, you have my grudging respect for a bad job well done, but don’t pull a stunt like that again or I’m sending a plague of cabbage white butterflies to land on all your plants and lay eggs to grow caterpillars to eat the lot.’_

Crowley grinned, nodded at Dagon and sauntered vaguely upwards, whistling happily. Bob incinerated the mosquito.


	38. Noodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wedding planning and goat damage mitigation procedures...

Several weeks had elapsed. Aziraphale decided they really ought to start doing some wedding planning, and as such, had taken Crowley’s hand and walked him along to the Ritz, where they were currently in a private wine tasting with the head sommelier, to select the vintages they’d like for the reception. 

Crowley, while extremely enamoured with his angel, was not so enamoured with the nonsense of overly fussy frilly wedding planning, and as such was taking the opportunity to escape the tedium somewhat. 

Aziraphale sipped from another glass and swirled the vintage around his mouth a little thoughtfully. 

“I’m getting raspberry, with hints of fresh dough and a chocolate finish”

Crowley hiccuped.

“I’m getting drunk.”

Aziraphale shot him a scolding look as the sommelier pretended not to notice. For the amount of money that was being thrown at him, he was being paid not to notice. 

“Crowley, do try to take it seriously, dear.”

“Angel why does it have to be so complicated? Can’t we just elope to Gretna Green?”   
  
“Crowley, it’s an old forge with a horseshoe over the door…”

Crowley’s face scrunched up. He made a complicated sound.

“Eeeeuuurggghhh… good point. Well how about Vegas? Quick flight out there, pop down to some random drive through chapel and get married by an Elvis impersonator.”   
  
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Crowley.”

The demon plucked a random bottle from the table and waved the sommelier away, put the bottle to his lips and chugged while his angel looked scandalised. 

“All I’m sayin’ is… is…,” he waved one hand vaguely in the air as he sought his point. “Who are we gonna invite? Don’t want any of your lot there, don’t want any of my lot there, why do we need a big fancy do when we don’t have loads of friends and family to join in? Can just do the two of us, plus Bob and Lydia, call it a day. Lil’ regishry… *hic*... REGisssstry offish thing, job done.”

He plonked the bottle down on the table and finally registered Aziraphale’s expression. His face fell. 

“Oh, no… nonononooooo, Angel, no. Don’cry… nooo, please. ‘M sorry. I din’ mean it I ssswear.” Crowley lurched from his chair and slithered across to wrap his angel in a hug. Aziraphale sniffed. 

“I just wanted something memorable, something special. I’ve… I’ve been thinking of this day for so long and…” Aziraphale gulped. “... And I wanted something more than a quickie ceremony at some tawdry roadside attraction.”

Crowley hugged him tighter. “‘M sorry, Angel,” he mumbled into his shirt collar, causing Aziraphale to tactfully peel the drunken demon off himself with a consoling pat. “Who d’you wanna invite then?”

“Well I had thought some of the humans who helped us avert armageddon perhaps.”

Crowley considered it, humans didn’t last long, as a rule, although the modern ones tended to last a bit longer than the dark ages models. They had a tendency to shuffle off this mortal coil so rapidly that Crowley had a bad habit of confusing grandkids for their grandparents - especially if he’d slept in that decade and lost track of time again. 

“Could do I guess. Who were you thinking of?”   


“Well Anathema and Newton, Marjorie and Shadwell…”   
  
“Marjorie?”   


“Madam Tracey was her professional name, she’s Marjorie Potts, or rather Marjorie Shadwell now.”   
  
“Right. Who else? The kids?”   


“Of course, Adam, Brian, Pepper, Wensleydale, what do you think about Warlock?”   
  
“Might take a bit of explaining why Nanny and the gardener from his childhood aren’t who he thought they were, probably not.”   
  
“Mrs Stanley from downstairs of course, no doubt she’d love to help with the flower arranging for the day, her arrangement at the WI show was quite spectacular don’t you think?”

Crowley nodded in agreement as he decided to sober up with a wince. 

“And honestly, I think that Gabriel, Beelzebub and Eric should be welcome.”

“You’re serious?”

“I think that at least one of each of our respective offices should be present as witness to the first angel and demon marriage, dear.”

“Fair point.” Crowley was rather more enjoying the prospect of rubbing their faces in it than anything else. He considered the bottles on the table. “Better get some soft drinks ordered for the kids as well then I suppose.” He pointed out a few of the wine bottles. “I like these three best, you?”   
  
Azirpahale tapped some in turn. “Starter, main course, dessert, general evening drinks.”

Crowley nodded decisively. “Right, let’s blow this joint.”

* * *

Gabriel didn’t even look up as he heard the goose alarm going off in the distance, although he did remark to Michael “Sounds like it’s over in the Elysian sector this time, third time this week.” He carried on signing off the forms as Uriel entered, carrying some brightly coloured foam tubes and a Stanley knife. She plonked them on his desk. Michael eyed the items curiously. 

“What are those?”

“Pool noodles,” Gabriel replied shortly. “Beelzebub suggested them.”

“Suggested them for what?”

Uriel yelped as Melchior headbutted her in the backside on her way out, sharp little budding horns making quite an impression. 

“For that.” Gabriel said, and picked up the Stanley knife. He set about cutting two lengths off a bright yellow pool noodle, then another two off the purple one, and two off the green, rather shorter. “Would you give me a hand?”

Mystified, Michael nodded. Gabriel blew the kazoo. With a skittering of little hooves on the floor, suddenly all three young goats stood expectantly before him and he handed out some pony nuts to each, before grabbing Melchior first by the horns and then straddling his neck so the goat’s neck was between his thighs. 

“Pass me the yellow ones,” Gabriel grunted through gritted teeth. Michael passed them over and he slid them over the goat’s horns, covering the sharp ends with foam. He released Melchior who gave him a dirty look and lowered his head in threat. Gabriel sidestepped the charge and grabbed tiny Balthasar next. “Green ones,” he instructed Michael, hand out while he wrestled with the angry bleating beast. 

Pool noodles fitted, he released Balthasar and made eye contact with Gaspar, who had a feeling something fishy was going on and took a wary step backwards. Gabriel inched forwards then flung himself at the white goat, who promptly fainted again. There was a familiar small thunderclap.

“IS…”   
  
**“Nope!”** Gabriel responded without even looking up. There was another little thunderclap and Death disappeared again. 

Michael handed him the purple pool noodles and Gabriel deftly fitted them to the unconscious goat with a satisfied grunt. “Right, that’s Trouble, Terror and Catatonic taken care of, what’s next on the agenda?”

“Can you do something similar about the goose?” Michael tried.

“Not as far as I know, I think he’s a law unto himself.” Gabriel nudged Gaspar gently, as the little white woodenleg goat blinked and looked up, wiggling his head and making the pool noodles wobble comically. 

* * *

When angel and demon got home again, Lydia and Bob were playing Mario Kart together. When Lydia spun around to greet Aziraphale, Bob took the opportunity to cheat of course, making Crowley grin in approval. Lydia growled her motors in irritation. 

“Right, time for a walk, kids, c’mon.” Crowley grabbed Bob’s lead so he could keep him from chasing squirrels again, and all four headed out the door. 

It seemed that Gabriel had also taken to using the park to give his new minions some exercise, as they found him walking Hexa on her smart lilac lead again, while his secretarial angel wrestled with the tangled leads of three rambunctious and rapidly growing goat kids, each wearing a pair of brightly coloured pool noodles on their horns. 

Crowley first attached Bob’s lead to Lydia’s housing so that she could keep him close while she grazed, then sat on a bench to scroll through his phone. Aziraphale went to talk to Gabriel. Hexa was let off her lead and walked over to have a beeped conversation with Lydia. 

“I see Lorabiel is learning to handle the goats then?” Aziraphale, nodding at Gabriel’s secretary, who was showing admirable restraint in continuing not to swear despite what the four legged hellions were putting them through. Gabriel grunted in agreement. 

“Well Crowley and I were talking, and wanted to know if you and Beelzebub might like to attend our wedding, it’ll be at the Ritz, a civil ceremony, we can’t do a church wedding of course, at least not unless poor Crowley was on rollerskates, which he did, in fact offer to do at first.”

Gabriel blanched somewhat. His attempts to understand the human traditions around marriage thus far had not been at all enjoyable, and he was loath to take part in more unknown customs he didn’t comprehend. 

“Will more animals be involved?”

“No, not at all. Just me, Crowley, the appliances, and some humans.”

“Well I suppose that Beelzebub and I could attend in that case, ah… speak of the devil…” Gabriel’s face lit up as the Prince of hell approached, leading You Bastard behind. He kept yanking them to one side or the other of the path as he tried to grab mouthfuls of grass along the way. 

They got closer, and then You Bastard noticed something. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide, and refused to move. Beelzebub pulled at his leadrope fruitlessly. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you now?”

You Bastard continued to stare - at the three pool noodle wearing goats. He may be a minor demon, but he was also mostly pony instincts. And every drop of equine instinct in his rotund fuzzy body was telling him RUNAWAYRUNAWAYRUNAWAY-ALIENSHAVELANDED! Brightly coloured accoutrements not being something he naturally associated with his erstwhile friends.

So he did. 

… It took several feet before Beelzebub remembered to let go of the leadrope. They stood up and brushed themself off while glaring after the rapidly retreating shetland. 

Bob noticed the fleeing pony and tugged at his lead to yank Lydia with him as he headed across the grass at high speed on a course to intersect You Bastard’s before he reached the park gate. Lydia charged alongside, and the lead stretched between them provided a useful way of herding the pony away from the gate and toward a bit of fence, where they corralled him until Gabriel ran over to grab his leadrope again and lead him back to Beelzebub. 

The Prince of hell knelt down in front of the unrepentant pony and pointed towards the three goats. “Look, still goats. Perfectly normal goats, you lived with them for crying out loud, how can you not recognise them?”

You Bastard looked embarrassed and looked away sheepishly. Beelzebub sighed and stood up again. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Gabriel indicated Aziraphale, and Crowley, who was still lounging on a bench, having videoed the entire thing and was now uploading it to social media with a smirk. “These two are inviting us to their nuptials.”

Beelzebub gave Aziraphale a frank look. “There had better be booze.”

“Well we were just meeting with the sommelier at the Ritz this morning as it happens and we did pick out some lovely vintages...”

“Ok I’m in,” Beelzebub replied, then elbowed Gabriel. “C’mon BuzzButt, I’m on lunch break, Lorabiel can watch the animals for an hour, you’re buying me lunch.”


	39. ALL THE ILLUSTRATIONS! (Oh yeah, and a wedding.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the big one! A big day for our ineffable fiancées - there's a marriage to be had, some silliness, some softness, some more unexpected love to be found, and a reunion of the armageddon crew. Beautiful illustrations commissioned from Elwyst and Tweedfeather (see end notes for their social media links!), a collab between myself and Elwyst, and a couple of illustrations by myself. 
> 
> IMPORTANT - there will be a short hiatus after this chapter - see end notes for details, thanks.  
>  ****  
> ***Sometimes AO3 glitches and doesn't load images, if you can't see the images, right click and "view image" and it will show up, unfortunately it's a common AO3 end glitch and not something I have control over, sorry.***  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read important notes at the end. I commissioned some lovely talented artists to help out with this chapter, and did a couple myself as well as a collaboration. 
> 
> Elwyst has been doing cute Bob illustrations for months, so I insisted on paying her to do some especially for this chapter. We also teamed up to draw the Bentley - she took my line art and added colour and decoration. 
> 
> Tweedfeather supplied two utterly adorable drawings as well - I've added all social media links in the end notes.

Aziraphale eyed the crates, then turned his gaze on his demonic fiancée. Every ounce of angelic disapproval at his disposal glaring at Crowley from all 1,000 eyes on all planes of reality at once.

Crowley winced.

“What? It’s traditional to release birds at a wedding.”

“Crowley, these are _geese.”_

Crowley attempted to resist the ocular onslaught for approximately 2 seconds longer before caving in and reluctantly snapping his fingers with a sigh. The crates and their honking occupants disappeared. Aziraphale relaxed slightly.

“Where did you send them?”

“Political conference. Ought to liven things up a little,” Crowley grinned.  
  
Aziraphale gave him a steady look, trying not to smile, before eventually caving in and giving him a kiss. “Now can we please plan this wedding a little more seriously, darling? Look, Madam Tracey gave us this adorable little ring pillow with silver tassels on the ribbons. She embroidered it with the lovely beading pattern herself - Bob wants to carry it down the aisle for us, don’t you Bob?”  
  
Bob beeped happily and scooted in a little circle, asking for Aziraphale to give him the pillow. The angel leaned down and placed it on top of his housing, then Bob scooted off to show Lydia, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale chatting. 

He zoomed through to the plant room where Lydia had been fussing around a pile of flowerpots on the floor. Crowley had brought a bunch of colourful blooms home from the garden centre and lined them up for her inspection. The little robo mower nudged a sub-par bloom up against the wall, and continued down the line, keeping the pots she liked the look of, and nudging aside the ones that didn’t pass muster, until she had a little collection of plants she wanted for her trailer.  
  
A few leaves had fallen from the flowers as she moved them about, so she lowered her mowing height and engaged her blades to mulch them, just as Bob zoomed through the door at high speed. As he skidded around the corner of the doorway in his excitement, the pillow flew off his lid, slid across the floor, and the tasselled ribbons tangled under Lydia’s housing. There was a brief tearing sound and the pretty tassels were shredded from the pillow.  
  
Both of them stopped stock still in alarm, and looked at each other in horror. Lydia cautiously backed off, and stared at the silk pillow with embroidery and beads on one corner, a satin bow around the middle, and two ribbons to hold the rings secure, now torn short. 

Bob let out a distressed wailing beep as Lydia tried to apologise. Azirpahale appeared in the doorway to investigate and found the distraught little appliance flicking the shredded remnants of the tassels around the floor with his whiskers as if he could fix it somehow. 

“Oh Bob, don’t be upset, dear boy, it’s quite alright - the tassels aren’t important, the ribbon is still there, it’s just a bit shorter, dear. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” Aziraphale picked Bob up and gave him a hug until the upset beeps subsided, then put him back on the floor again with a consoling pat. “Don’t get yourself in a tizz, dear, no harm done.” He turned to the line of flowers that Lydia had selected with a bright smile. “Oh Lydia, darling, they are a lovely selection.”

He called to Crowley who came through pulling a little red wagon. “Oh good choice, Lyds. I see you’ve been reading that book that Uncle Aziraphale lent you about flowers.” He gave her a pat and began arranging the flowers in the wagon for her. “You’re going to be the prettiest flower girl ever.” He nodded to the rejected flowers. “And those ones I’m going to pick the flowers off the plants, then you can mulch and scatter the petals as confetti.”

“What did she choose, darling?”

“Kalanchoe blossfeldiana, or ‘Flaming Katy’ - symbolizes persistence and eternal love since it blooms for weeks. Red and white roses together mean 'we make a great match' or unity. Thaumatophyllum xanadu or ‘Winterbourn’ - philodendrons in general symbolize health, abundance and a love of nature.”

“Oh Lydia, how thoughtful, dear girl!” Aziraphale beamed at her. Lydia felt a little better after her mishap with the ribbons.

* * *

Crowley stepped back and considered the Bentley critically. Aziraphale finished tying a giant tartan bow in front of the grille*. 

“You have GOT to be kidding me, Angel.”

“Tartan’s stylish,” Aziraphale rejoined, primly. He gave Crowley the _look._

Crowley met his gaze steadily, disapproving. 

Aziraphale batted his eyelashes. 

Crowley bit his lip and attempted to continue glowering. He was fighting a losing battle. 

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and put on the minutest hint of a pout and Crowley caved in entirely with an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine. But I’m taking the giant one off the back.”

[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/small-for-web-art/elwyst-bentley-wedding-scan50.jpg)   
_ (Collab between myself and Elwyst - I provided the line art of the Bentley, and Elwyst added the traditional wedding decoration ribbons and beautiful colour) _

He found himself suddenly enveloped in a big, soft angel hug. 

“You do absolutely nothing for my fashionable image, you realise,” the demon groused

“It’s only for the day, darling.”

Crowley looked up as he heard a familiar engine note puttering towards them down the street. He grimaced as Newt parked Dick Turpin behind the Bentley, then got out with a nervous smile and a wave, as Anathema began lifting suit bags from the car, handing one to Newt before bustling over to greet Aziraphale and Crowley with a warm smile. 

“Hello boys, got everything sorted here, shall we go upstairs and I’ll help you get ready?”

As Newt went to help Aziraphale with his new suit, which he had grudgingly agreed to be fitted for for the occasion, Anathema went to help Crowley. “I took in the seam here and here to give it a more tailored fit for you, you’ve got the shape to pull it off so why not go all out?” She held the jacket up for his inspection and Crowley grinned. It was far sharper than anything he could have imagined up himself, and he wanted something better than miracled clothing for his special day. 

As he removed his usual jacket and handed it over, something small and white fell from the pocket and fluttered to the floor. He darted forward to grab it, trying to keep it from Anathema’s sight and failing. She picked it up before he could reach it and inspected the item.

It was a single white feather - a small contour feather with downy plumes at the base, purest white. She gave Crowley a curious look as she handed it over. Crowley blushed and stumbled over his words. 

“It’s… it’ssss, uh - um. It’s Aziraphale’s. He doesn’t know I have it, I’ve had it for, um. Well more than hundreds, possibly a couple of thousand years at least - we don’t get our wings out much, but last time we did, at the same time, he dropped this one before he put them away again and I kind of kept it, to remind me of him.”

Anathema almost melted, watching the tall, angular demon blushing over a tiny white feather held so carefully in his long fingers. 

“I always keep it in my pocket usually. Would you…” Crowley looked uncertain. “... Um, would you keep hold of it for me? Just until later? I’d put it in the safe but Aziraphale is getting ready in there. Besides, he knows the combination now anyway.”

“Of course.” Anathema held out her hand, and Crowley placed the feather in her palm reverently. She carefully tucked it in her own pocket and buttoned it down, then picked up a black silk tie with red floral motif and helped Crowley tie it on, standing back to take in the overall look. “You look amazing, but honestly, you’d look good if you dressed in a bin bag.” She sighed wistfully. “I wish I could get Newt to dress like this, but he’s a lost cause I’m afraid. Oh well, you stay here, I’m going to check how they’re getting on.”

* * *

When Anathema got through to the others, Newt was fighting a losing battle over the waistcoat. 

“There’s a nice new one that goes with the suit,” Newt was whimpering. Aziraphale’s bottom lip was quivering in obstinacy. 

“I’ve had that waistcoat for over a hundred years” he protested. Anathema held up the offending object with her expression firm. 

“And how many generations of clothes moths have you fed with it? Look, it’s threadbare! You are not wearing this with your brand new suit. It’s just for the day and you can put it on again afterwards, but you’re wearing the new one for the ceremony.”

Anathema’s expression brooked no debate, and unlike Crowley, she was completely unswayed by petulant angel expressions. Aziraphale gave in with bad grace and tugged at his cuffs. “Oh, cufflinks… Anathema dear, would you look in the pocket of my waistcoat - I tucked them in there earlier.”

Anathema reached into the pocket as Aziraphale tied his new white bow tie, and withdrew the cufflinks, but something else was there as well. She held up a little black feather with surprise written across her face. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he blushed then looked down. 

“Is this… by any chance, Crowley’s?” Anathema asked slowly, fighting the urge to grin.

“Well yes, as it happens, it is - I always keep it with me, I have done for so long I can’t even remember - he shed it once and I picked it up when he wasn’t looking and kept it ever since.”

A wistful expression softened his features and he went misty eyed at the memory. “Would you be a dear and look after it for me until the wedding is over? I’d usually put it in the trinket box on my dressing table, but Crowley is in there right now.”

Anathema smiled widely, “Of course, not a problem.”

She tucked it away in the same pocket with the white feather, then excused herself for a moment, and returned with a huge bouquet of white roses and orchids, handing them over to the angel, whose face lit up at the sight. 

“Crowley asked me to give you these, he said he’s been growing them himself on the rooftop garden for months, and he put the arrangement together especially for you.”

Tears welled up in Aziraphale’s eyes at the sight. “That sneaky serpent - he’s banned me from going up there for ages and I had no idea why, please tell him they’re beautiful.” He stroked the pristine white blooms fondly. “He never ceases to surprise me.”

* * *

Crowley set off first in the Bentley, taking Anathema, Bob and Lydia, along with Lydia’s little red wagon trailer and the flowers. He and Aziraphale were determined to keep the tradition of not seeing each other in their wedding outfits until the ceremony, so Aziraphale was going to follow on in a horse drawn carriage. The Bentley was to leave the ceremony in together afterwards. 

Once at the Ritz, Crowley introduced Anathema to Eric, who had been recruited to look after Bob and Lydia during proceedings. He helped unload the wagon and hitched it up to Lydia, then took the matching gold serpent rings Crowley had bought, and tied them onto the ribbons on the pillow. 

[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/small-for-web-art/weddingroomba-elwyst-resized.jpg)   
_ (Elwyst) _

As Crowley went to talk to the Maître D’ about the details, and to meet a couple of the other guests, Anathema and Eric sat with the appliances. “Crowley said Lydia accidentally ripped the ribbons,” Anathema commented, idly following a train of thought. “Eric, you can do miracle things like Crowley, right?”

“Yeah?”  
  
She reached into her handbag and withdrew a small sewing kit she always carried with her. “Can you snap me up a couple of beads, please…?” 

* * *

Gabriel fidgeted in his seat as he waited. Beelzebub kicked his ankle. 

“What’s wrong now?”

“That human over there has been asking everybody how many nipples they have.”  
  
“Yeah? So? Humans are weird.”

“Well I didn’t know the right answer.”

“Huh?”

“How many are they supposed to have?”

Beelzebub stared at him blankly. After a moment they finally found a response.

“Your corporation has two, so does mine, why does it confuse you?”

“Well I didn’t know if that was just an optional extra, if you could have more or less or something? Is there an average?”  
  
“Unless you’re a multimammate mouse, not usually. Humans generally have two, and I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.”

Gabriel nodded, then stood up and shouted over to Shadwell. 

**“I’ve got TWO nipples!”** he declared proudly, as everyone else in earshot gaped at him in confusion. Gabriel sat down again, satisfied, turned to talk to Beelzebub and found only an empty seat with a single buzzing fly orbiting where the demon had just been before their hasty and embarrassed exit.

The Archangel Michael batted at his head from behind and hissed at him to keep his voice down. Uriel just rolled her eyes. On the other side of the aisle, Dagon snorted in laughter. The Maître D’ meanwhile, had no idea what on earth was going on, or where these weird wedding guests had come from.

A few moments later, Adam, Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale arrived, accompanied by a parent or two each. Arthur Young looked around curiously, then Deirdre spied Anathema and approached the familiar face with a broad smile, as did Pepper’s mother, the retired hippie was very fond of Anathema and they often hung out together at home. None of the parents were entirely sure why they were there, but Adam had simply ensured they wouldn’t question it. Dog was looking around with interest. 

[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/growbetter/14-dog-scan50.jpg)   
_ (GayDemonicDisaster) _

He spied Bob and Lydia waiting in the lobby and cocked his head in interest. Lydia beeped at him companionably and Bob gave a friendly beep. Dog wagged his tail in vague confused friendliness. Something deep down in his demonic soul recognised Bob as a fellow hellish creature, and he spread out his paws and ducked down in a play bow, tail wagging increasing, and gave out a happy “yip!” of greeting, which Bob returned with a playful beep. 

Arthur, on the other hand, spied Crowley and a flash of confused recognition clouded his features - he wasn’t quite sure where he could place that face from, having quite forgotten the mysterious “Doctor” with the infrared remote control headlights on his car from the night Adam was born. 

The Maître D’ stepped toward the front of the function room and coughed politely. 

“Ahem, Theydies and Gentlethems…” (Crowley had been quite specific on this point), “... If you would like to take your seats, I believe our other groom is pulling up outside, thank you.”

Crowley faced forwards, butterflies in his stomach, as the music started and he heard gentle gasps of appreciation as Aziraphale stepped into the room behind him. Only when the angel arrived by his side did he turn to take in the sight, and almost burst into tears with pride. 

_[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/small-for-web-art/roomba-weddingpic2.jpg) _   
_ (GayDemonicDisaster) _

Aziraphale held the huge bouquet of home grown roses and orchids, and wore a brand new, pure white suit, smartly tailored but still comfortable so he’d feel at ease. His hair was a veritable halo of fluffy curls atop his head and Crowley desperately wanted to reach out and run his fingers through them, but resisted. 

Aziraphale, in turn, took in his demon’s new attire in stunned silence, lost for words for a moment. He wore a sharply cut silk suit, tightly tailored to show off his lean frame. Black silk shirt, black silk tie with red floral motif, snug waistcoat, and black jacket with shiny lapels, and embroidered black roses. 

[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/small-for-web-art/roomba-weddingpic1.jpg)   
_ (GayDemonicDisaster) _

“Oh my darling… Crowley…” 

Crowley smiled soppily at his fiancée and reached out to take his hand and gave it a little squeeze. Behind them, Madame Tracey dabbed at her tears with a hankie as Shadwell rolled his eyes. She elbowed him viciously. “Don’t be such a cynical old baggage, you,” she hissed at him. 

Next, Bob and Lydia came up the aisle, a trail of rose petals had been laid down, and Lydia flicked them up with her blades, scattering rose petal confetti left and right as she went, towing her little wagon full of flowers, and Bob led the way proudly carrying the pillow on his lid. Anathema stepped into her seat next to the waiting Newt with a conspiratorial smile. 

Aziraphale and Crowley looked down at Bob and there were two sharply indrawn breaths at once as they saw that the pillow had been repaired - now sporting a single black and white feather on each ribbon that held the gold rings in place. The white feather had white and gold beads supporting it, and the black feather had red and black beads. 

[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/small-for-web-art/ringpillow-resized.jpg)   
_ (Elwyst) _

Their eyes met, both simultaneously guilty and fond, in a brief confused moment. 

“I’m sorry, I just…” they both began at once before laughing. Crowley continued, nervously. “I just kept it, because it reminded me of you.”

“Same here darling,” Aziraphale murmured back. Crowley bent down to retrieve the rings, patting Bob as he did so.

“God job, Hellspawn, proud of you, kiddo.”

He stood up and handed the pair of gold snake rings to the registrar, who had no idea why there were electrical appliances involved in these nuptials, but it was, at least so far, not entirely the strangest wedding she’d officiated. 

[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/small-for-web-art/weddingring1.jpg)

Eric escorted Bob and Lydia to the side and took a spare seat next to Uriel, glancing up nervously at the archangel next to him shyly, then looking away again hurriedly when she looked his way. 

* * *

The registrar, the officiating officer, Maître D’, and Ritz staff hadn’t quite seen a wedding like it before. Quite apart from the peculiar vows the couple had written themselves, promising to have and to hold “To discorporation and beyond,” and the distinctly odd assemblance of guests. 

Angel and Demon, the first in the entire history of the world, slid gold wedding rings onto each other’s fingers, and kissed.

  
_ (Tweedfeather) _

Madame Tracey and Anathema both broke out into spontaneous applause, sparking off the other humans. Then, after a brief moment of confusion at the convention, the angels and demons joined in as well, with bemused expressions at the entire spectacle. 

Crowley and Aziraphale joined arms and walked back down the aisle as the assembled beings showered them with rose petals, and made their way to get some photographs done, while everyone else went to the ballroom for drinks before dinner. 

Crowley, of course, insisted on some photographs with the Bentley, and a couple with Bob and Lydia. As they made their way into the ballroom, they each collected flowers from Lydia’s wagon to hand out to the assembled guests. 

* * *

After everyone had finished eating, Crowley used a small miracle to silence the room, then stood and made an announcement. 

“Well seeing as I invented the concept of long boring wedding speeches, although I’m not going to apologise, I’m also not going to subject you to them either. So, my beautiful Angel can go first: Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale blushed and stood, received another kiss from Crowley, then cleared his throat and addressed the assembled guests.

“When I first met this wily old serpent, I was technically on apple tree duty, and much as he tempted Eve to take that first bite, he slithered his way into my heart with those enchanting eyes and tempted me… well… to be a better person. Crowley, you have made me an honest angel, thank you.”

Crowley winced, still instinctively uncomfortable at the praise, but lifted his glass in return and drank a toast with the rest, before standing to make his own short speech. 

“Well, I’m going even shorter than that one. Angel, I hung the stars in the sky, but not a single one is as beautiful as you are. You’ve made me the happiest demon in existence.”

He lifted his glass, took a swig, then swept Azirpahale into a very ostentatious kiss as the applause washed over them. “Still don’t know why you didn’t let me do the roller skates down the aisle thing though, Angel.” he said with a wink. 

The MaÎtre D’ brought out a genuine ex military Wilkinson sword to cut the cake with - Aziraphale had baked the cake himself, and Crowley handed him the sword to make the first cut. Unfortunately as soon as he took the blade it burst into flame. 

Aziraphale stumbled back, wide eyed in surprise, but not half as surprised as the MaÎtre D’ who had truly no idea what was going on, and after the angel had banished the heavenly flame, the hapless human hurried off for a stiff drink. Crowley took the sword and had Aziraphale lay his hand over the top of his own to cut the cake together instead, and managed it without any more flambée incidents. 

* * *

Adam, Pepper, Brain and Wensleydale took turns getting trailer rides off Lydia, and started collecting plates full of crumbs to feed to Bob. Unfortunately, the wedding cake was infused with alcohol, and soon Bob began to feel decidedly tipsy. As the music took off and the dancing began, he was soon twirling in extravagant circles around Lydia, who asked to be relieved of her trailer to join in. 

After the third person had tripped over him, Bob gave a mechanical hiccup, then snapped himself onto the ceiling and continued to dance up there. Lydia regarded him sadly from the floor, then Uriel wandered over and sat down next to her. 

“You ok?”

Lydia beeped sadly. 

“Can’t you get up there too?”

Lydia beeped a no.

“Can’t snap, huh?”

Another sad beep. 

The Archangel gave her a sympathetic look, and snapped. Lydia felt a little surge of angelic power flowing through her circuits, and looked up at Uriel in confusion. 

“Try now,” Uriel told her. 

Lydia slipped her clutch belt and snapped it, and found herself teleported to the ceiling alongside Bob. With a happy beep of thanks, she carried on dancing as Uriel smiled up at them.

Eric had watched the entire exchange, and gazed up at Uriel in equally rapt adoration. 

__   
_ (Tweedfeather) _

He shyly approached Uriel. “Thanks for doing that, I know it was bothering her that she didn’t have the same powers as Bob, I think you just made her day.”

Uriel shrugged. “She looked like she needed cheering up.” She wandered off to the open bar to try some more human drinks, leaving a lovestruck Eric gazing after her. 

Adam in the meantime, had come prepared for mischief, and fished out some joke plastic ice cubes with fake flies in them, and tipped them into the punch bowl, just as Gabriel and Beelzebub came for a top up. Gabriel dipped in the ladle and withdrew a measure for his glass, then peered closer at it, his face twisting into horrified recognition. He hastily threw the glass across the room. "DON'T LOOK, BEELZEBUB!" Gabriel gasped, flinging himself between them and the punch bowl.

Beelzebub gave him a cynical look. “What the hell’s got into you, Captain BuzzButt?”

Gabriel floundered for an answer. “Uh… um… your… buzzies. All present and correct? All accounted for are they?”

Beelzebub tipped their head on one side and considered for a moment, a few flies orbited their head. “...Yup, why?”

Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief. “Doesn’t matter, punch wasn’t that good anyway, how about some…” he floundered for a random bottle on the table, and grabbed the nearest one, holding it up to his face to decipher the label. “... Tequila?”

Beelzebub grinned, and held out a glass. “Hit me.”

The MaÎtre D’ wandered back into the ballroom to see how things were getting along. His peripheral vision picked up movement above his head and he looked up to see a roomba and a lawn mower dancing circles on the ceiling. With a whimper, he backed slowly out of the room, and the concierge later found him hiding under his desk clutching a purloined bottle of whisky and muttering to himself about flaming swords and gravity defying electrical appliances..

Uriel, meanwhile, was discovering that human drinks had a curious effect, and was currently feeling extremely mellow. She nudged Crowley and nodded towards the disposable demon. “Who’s that?” She asked. 

“That’s Eric, he looks after Bob and Lydia for us sometimes - he’s appliance sitting while we’re on our honeymoon as well, why?”

_[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/growbetter/20-angel-scan50.jpg) _   
_ (GayDemonicDisaster) _

Uriel knocked back a bit more of her cocktail and shrugged. “No reason.”

Gabriel had also forgotten about his previous experience with alcohol, and was busy proudly showing off his fly tattoo to Newt and Shadwell, who were both baffled and horrified in equal measure, at least until Madam Tracey, somewhat experienced at handling random drunk people, encouraged him to pull his trousers up again and go for a nice quiet sit down in the corner with a big glass of tap water. 

Eric was at the “chaotic drunk” stage of the evening and had miracled the sound system into playing some faster paced drum’n’bass track to dance along to. The angels in attendance were very much not dancing, but he threw caution to the wind, grabbed Uriel’s hand and dragged her to the dancefloor to join him. She resisted for a moment before deciding to humour him and see what all the fuss was about with his dancing malarkey. 

Aziraphale winced at the change in music and raised his hand to snap and change it back, but Crowley gently placed a hand over his, lowering it, then kissed him on the cheek. “Let him have this one, we can change it for the next track, he’s having fun.”

After the music came to an end, Crowley snapped to change it to something ambient as Aziraphale prepared to throw his bouquet. It took several minutes of humans explaining the convention to the ethereal and occult beings before several assembled to try to catch it. In the mad scramble, when everyone thought the flowers had fallen to the floor, there was a triumphant beep and Lydia emerged from a sea of legs with the bouquet proudly resting on top of her housing. She surged forward and bumped noses with Bob who squealed his motors in delight. 

As the bouquet fell however, a couple of blooms had come loose from the arrangement - one fell on Beelzebub’s head, and they regarded it in a confused and grumpy silence, before shrugging and tucking it behind Gabriel’s ear. The other was caught by Eric, who shyly approached Uriel and held it out to her. 

“D’you want this?” He mumbled. Uriel regarded him in a mellow and slightly confused drunken haze, then took the white rose from his fingers, bent down, and kissed him. 

[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/growbetter/19-demon-scan50.jpg)   
_ (GayDemonicDisaster) _

Eric froze at first, and then began to relax and go with the flow, quite unaware of the spontaneous applause that had broken out around them. The pair spent the rest of the evening taking turns sitting on each other’s laps and watching the rest of the party while occasionally practising kissing a bit more. 

Crowley sat at the head table sipping champagne and picked at the silken ring pillow, stroking the pair of feathers that Anathema had sewn to it. He met his husband’s fond gaze with a soft smile of his own. “I never knew you’d got one of mine as well,” he murmured. 

“I’ve treasured it since the moment you dropped it, darling. Whenever I was feeling despondent, I’d take it from my pocket and feel it’s softness, and think of you.”

“Same here, Angel,” Crowley smiled back at him, then leaned forward into another kiss. He snapped his fingers to transport the pillow back to the safety of his flat, lest it get lost in the chaos of the evening after they left. 

“There’s something I want to try, darling, if you’ll let me?” Aziraphale asked quietly. 

“Anything for you, Angel, what is it?”

Aziraphale leaned forward and whispered into his ear, Crowley’s smile widened and he pecked his husband on the cheek. “D’you think it’ll work?”

“Only one way to find out. Would you miracle all the humans other than those who already know what we are, to need to leave the room for a few minutes? Maybe persuade them they need to visit the bathroom or something? I think just the wait staff and the Them’s parents.”  
  
“Of course.” Crowley snapped, and all the rest of the humans found the sudden urge to visit the bathroom at once, leaving just those that they trusted, and the angels and demons in the room. The doors closed themselves as Crowley and Azirpahale stood up. 

The assembled crowd looked on expectantly as they took each other’s hand, and shook their wings out with a sigh. The assembled archangels suddenly looked uneasy as they got an inkling of what the angel and demon were about to attempt - something that only angels had ever done before. An angel and a demon had never done this, and no one had any idea if it’d even work. The archangels exchanged questioning looks between each other. 

Crowley and Aziraphale each held their left wing forward, and grasped the other’s left wing in their hand, then pressed close and kissed. 

There was a glow of golden light which enveloped the pair of them, so bright that everyone had to avert their eyes. The golden light shot along each of their wings in an extra bright flash, then faded. They lifted off then looked at their wings. 

Each left wing now had a single feather in the opposing colour. Aziraphale now had a small feather near the wrist joint that was shimmering jet black, and Crowley had one that was bright pearlescent white. If they’d been two angels, the feathers would have both been gold. They supposed that as they were so different, they’d each gained a feather of the other’s colour instead. They laughed as the archangels stared on in amazement, and the understanding humans applauded loudly. They hastened to tuck their wings away again before the other humans returned to the room.

After midnight, Crowley and Aziraphale sobered up and headed out to the Bentley to set off on their honeymoon - a roadtrip across Europe together. Madam Tracey took on the responsibility of marshalling a room full of drunken angels and demons, herding them onto a minibus to take them back to Celestial HQ, and finally getting her own rather soppily drunk Shadwell back to their hotel as well. Bob scooted around the floor vacuuming up all the confetti, before Anathema and Newt took him and Lydia back home in a taxi, along with Eric, and a rather drunken Uriel, who had decided she was coming too. The humans weren’t sure if they could exactly refuse an archangel, so went along with it. 

* * *

Gabriel and Beelzebub stumbled into Gabriel’s office, the lights were off and he put his fingers to his lips and did an exaggerated “shhhhhhh, goatsssshhhhh!” at the demon. All three were sleeping peacefully in a pile of straw in the corner, with Hexa watching over them. She waved a leg at Gabriel as they entered. He waved back drunkenly. 

As Beelzebub shoved him back on his desk with the intention of giving him a good kissing, they paused, and looked at it in confusion. 

“Why is there confetti on your desk?”

Gabriel shrugged. 

“Dunno. Stuff like that happens sometimes.”

Beelzebub’s eyes narrowed, suddenly remembering seeing Bob vacuuming up confetti earlier. They growled as the pieces finally fit together. 

_“Crowley…”_ they growled. “I was bloody _right!”._

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

*In England it's traditional to decorate a wedding car with white ribbons running from the top corners of the windscreen down to the mascot at the front of the bonnet. Instead they've used scarlet for Crowley, and Aziraphale's tartan touch.

_(Bonus: concept kiss sketches by Tweedfeather - aren't they adorable? It was hard chosing just one.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CREDITS:
> 
> Elwyst drew Bob, Lydia, the ring pillow, and collaborated to edit my Bentley linework to add the wedding ribbons and colours:  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst>  
> <https://www.deviantart.com/elwyst>
> 
> Tweedfeather drew Eric the disposable demon and the wedding kiss:  
> <https://www.instagram.com/tweedfeather>  
> <https://tweedfeather.tumblr.com>  
> <https://twitter.com/tweedfeather>
> 
> I drew Aziraphale and Crowley in their suits, Dog, Uriel, and the second Eric. I also did the linework for the Bentley collab with Elwyst.  
> [www.instagram.com/gaydemonicdisaster](https://www.instagram.com/gaydemonicdisaster)  
> <https://scrapheapchallenge.tumblr.com>
> 
> RIGHT - As Aziraphale and Crowley head off on their honeymoon, I’m afraid I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing (or at least publishing more Roomba chapters) for about a fortnight. I have chronic illness which includes chronic fatigue and pain. I’ve been approaching burnout recently due to several factors. I need to practise some self-care for a while.
> 
> I’ve been learning to draw, taking part in the October ink prompts from the “Grow Better! Visual Artists” facebook group, making a LOT of Good Omens and other merchandise for my [ Etsy shop](http://www.manicuresbykirsty.etsy.com) for Ineffable Con, writing for a few zines (including for the ineffable con zine - those ones I’ll publish shortly on AO3). Then the chaos of Ineffable Con itself, running my booth, and customising, packaging and posting all of the orders, and custom commissions.
> 
> In addition I’ve had several very bad fatigue and pain days recently that took me out of action. Because I know my body can do this without warning, I usually pre-write a few chapters in advance, meaning I have a buffer zone of a couple of chapters I can publish on the weeks that I’m not up to writing. Unfortunately I used all of those up during my busy and ill weeks, and for the past 2 weeks have been writing as I go, a day or two before the chapter goes live - and I don’t work best like that. 
> 
> Rather than give you sub-par writing, I’d rather take a breather while the ineffable husbands enjoy their honeymoon. This will give me a chance to catch up with the writing again and take my time rather than rushing and putting out something I’m not happy with. 
> 
> I do have a lot in my WIP folder for other fics, plus one that’s been finished for a while but waiting for another artist to finish the commission for the art on it when they’re ready. I don’t want to publish it until the art is done, so that’s just waiting for now. 
> 
> As a little thank-you to my readers though, also to the participants of Ineffable Con at the weekend, I’ve set up a discount code for you all to use on my [Etsy shop](http://www.manicuresbykirsty.etsy.com) \- use code “INEFFABLE” for 10% off until the 18th of November 2020.
> 
> There are some pre-made Good Omens themed items there - hand painted cabochons I make, as well as some cheaper pocket money range pieces using printed instead of painted cabochons. I also have some snake themed items that are made by my supplier. A couple sold out very quickly but I have more on order which are in transit at the moment - so check back often for the restocked and new pieces, it’s a good opportunity to get some christmas presents. 
> 
> I have also been making some hand painted pride cabochons to set in jewellery of your choice - I have various pride flags all in shimmering sparkling rainbow linear holo (holographic finish) - traditional rainbow pride flags but also others for bisexual, pansexual, transgender, genderqueer, genderfluid, non binary, asexual, demisexual, aromantic, agender, lesbian, intersex, omnisexual, and I can make others to order on request. 
> 
> Finally, thank you for all the Bob love, your comments give me LIFE! I adore waking up and reading all your lovely words, even the keysmashes and emojis. I adore this fic, and hope to carry on writing it for some time so don't worry I will be back, I just need a bit of breathing space. 
> 
> Don't stop spamming me with inspiration too, if you have any cute ideas for what these ineffable husbands get up to on their honeymoon, or when they get home again and prepare to move into the new cottage in the South Downs in the future, let me know!


	40. HALLOWEEN SPECIAL (ILLUSTRATED)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok I KNOW I said I was on hiatus for 2 weeks, and I still kind of am, BUT I remembered that I had some halloween prompts that I wanted to use, and so decided to do this anyway - but then I'm back on holiday while I catch up. Enjoy your short Bonus Bob. 
> 
> Illustrations by myself and again by the lovely Tweedfeather. Yes mine is ALSO today's "Grow better! Artpocalypse" prompt - with a minor tweak - I added the wedding ring to Crowely's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw thank you to [Tweedfeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tweedfeather/pseuds/tweedfeather) AND [smashedglassglitteringlikestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smashedglassglitteringlikestars/pseuds/smashedglassglitteringlikestars) for the inspiration for Crowley's cheesy serenade near the end - it came up in a funny discord discussion last night and was too cute a scenario not to use somewhere.

Anathema hung up the mirror ball in the tall ceiling of Crowley’s flat, and glanced down at where Newt had finished lugging in the DJ equipment and was inspecting an odd looking machine. She coughed and gave him a look. He returned it with one of hurt pride. 

_“What?_ I’m not turning it on, only carried them up. What is this anyway?”  
  
“It’s a smoke machine.”  
  
“Huh. Well _anything’s_ a smoke machine if you operate it wrong enough.”

“And _you_ are not operating _any_ of them, _even_ the smoke machine. Hands off - go and help Tracey prepare the buffet table stuff.”

Newt grumbled and ambled off, sidestepping Bob. Eric sat on the floor drawing a pumpkin face on Lydia’s bright orange housing with washable face paints. He paused to watch for a minute. 

“What’s Bob going dressed as?”

Eric whistled and Bob scooted out from underneath the sofa. The demon reached into his pocket and withrew a white handkerchief, with two small holes cut in it. He draped it over Bob’s housing, lining up the holes with his googly eyes. 

“He’s going as a ghost.” Eric looked up. "Who are you dressed as?"  
  
"Bill Gates."

* * *

Gabriel called Lorabiel, his secretarial angel, into his office by the intercom. “Do you have the list I asked you to get yet?”

“Yes sir. I’ll bring it in.”

Lorabiel placed the list on his desk and he skimmed down it, casting a worried glance in the corner now and then. Lorabiel did as well. Balthasar the pygmy goat leapt onto the desk to investigate, and without even looking, Gabriel snapped up a handful of pony cubes to feed him, to forestall him from eating the paper. Gabriel pointed at the name at the top of the list. 

“And this is one of ours, yes?”

“Oh yes, she’s up here, not on Earth now. Best one we’ve got, I hear she’s pretty popular.”

“Right, make me an appointment.”

An hour later, Gabriel dragged Melchior through the streets of Heaven on a thick purple lead attached to the smart purple leather collar around his neck. As he walked along, angels glanced up, took in the sight and either gasped, screamed, fainted, or outright ran away in fear. Gabriel tried to ignore them.

Eventually he arrived on the edge of the Elysian sector in an area where human souls came after they left earth. He checked the address and approached a pretty cottage with a glorious garden rampaging with flowers. On the side of the cottage was an extension, he wrangled the black goat past all the plants successfully without letting him grab any of them, sacrificing his new scarf to the goat’s chewing attention instead, and wrestled him through the door. 

He looked around a waiting room, empty save for Death sitting in one corner with a cat carrier on his lap. They gave each other a nod of greeting. A quiet “mmrrrrrew” came from the cat carrier and Death shushed the kitten soothingly. Gabriel took a seat and clamped his knees either side of the now nearly fully grown goat to keep him under control. 

“Come here often then?” He enquired politely. 

“OH YES. SHE **IS** THE BEST IN THE BUSINESS, ALWAYS HAS BEEN. CATS ARE HER SPECIALITY.” He peered into the box “YES SHE IS, ISN’T SHE? YES SHE IS, WE LIKE AUNTIE JOAN DON’T WE ELOISE? YES WE DO.” he murmured in what was meant to be a baby-talk voice, delivered in a voice that sounded like the doors of ancient tombs slamming shut. The kitten still chirruped back at him nonetheless.

“Eloise?” 

Death looked up sharply. “YES. SHE IS A VERY GOOD KITTEN.” As if daring Gabriel to disagree. 

A tall woman with short styled blonde hair opened the door into the waiting room. “Eloise Death? Oh, lovely to see you both again, do bring her in won’t you?” She had a very brisk, jolly voice that spoke of someone who definitely liked a lot of fun and prosecco, but also didn’t stand for nonsense. Death stood and carried the small kitten into the consultation room. Melchior reached out to grab a magazine off the table and began eating it. 

A few minutes later, Death walked out happily with his kitten purring around his neck instead of in the carrier, nodded at Gabriel, and left. The blonde woman came to the door again. “Melchior Gabriel? Oh hello, you’re new aren’t you? Come on in.”

She held the door for them, then closed it and indicated the examination table. “If you could just lift him up there for me please, I’m Joan by the way. This must be Melchior, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Gabriel gasped as he heaved the now rather large goat onto the table. 

“And what seems to be the problem?”

Gabriel stared at her incredulously, then back at Melchior. He gesticulated wildly at the goat’s head. 

“...That?” He asked, wondering what on earth was wrong with this vet if she couldn’t see. 

“What, specifically?” Joan leaned forward and peered at Melchior’s face in confusion. 

“His face, his whole _head,_ what’s wrong with it?”

Joan gave him a level look. “He’s a Damascus goat.”

“And?”

“I’m afraid to say, that’s what they’re _supposed_ to look like.”* She sighed. “I mean it’s one of those strange breeding decisions that humans made at some point, rather like bulldogs and the like. Not aesthetically pleasing, not very helpful in evolutionary terms, but when you’ve got one, you just learn to love them.”

“But he looks like a demon who ran into a wall!”

Joan laughed. “Yes, he does a bit, doesn’t he? I’m afraid that’s how he’s bred - so long as he can eat normally, and by his weight it looks like he can, then I wouldn’t worry about it. I see you’ve left his ears nice and long rather than cropping them, I like to see that, just make sure you keep them clean, he’ll get used to not stepping on them. He looks to be in good condition, you’re doing a good job, don’t worry.” She patted him consolingly on the arm. 

Gabriel sighed and allowed Melchior to leap off the table himself. He snapped up a crate of Pinot Grigio wine on the table instead. “I was told this is the traditional way to settle the bill around here?”

Joan grinned widely. “Oh you wicked thing, that’s just the ticket, thank you. Don’t hesitate to bring him back if you have any other questions though. Toodle pip!” She waved after the retreating archangel and his pet goat who honestly by now did look rather like something that tunnelled up from hell and hit his face on the way up.

* * *

Crowley and Aziraphale had finished the first stage of their honeymoon - a short road trip across Europe, and had come home to drop the Bentley off before heading off on the second part by plane to travel a little further afield. They’d returned home for a couple of days over Halloween, to check in on Bob, Lydia and Eric before they set off again. Eric mentioned that he had a little surprise planned for them, but they weren’t allowed home before 7:30pm, and to come in halloween costumes. 

So to pass the time before heading back to Crowley’s flat, they headed to the Ritz for dinner. Most people out tonight were also in halloween costumes, so no one gave the angel and demon a second glance as they sat down at their table - Crowley wore a gold foil halo and some fluffy novelty angel wings, while Aziraphale wore a jaunty little pair of red plastic horns on a headband, some red vinyl bat wings and a red tail. 

As they sat down, their regular waiter ambled over with a magnum of champagne. 

“But we haven’t ordered champagne yet,” Aziraphale protested. 

“It’s on the house sir, with our congratulations.” He dropped his tone to a conspiratorial whisper: “besides, you two won me the sweepstakes in the kitchens - I had my money on you two not just getting married, but having the wedding here as well. Netted me five hundred and thirty quid.”

Crowley roared with laughter while Aziraphale blushed and sipped at his champagne in embarrassment. “Were we really that obvious, dear boy?” The waiter only smiled and dropped them a wink as he withdrew. 

Crowley’s laugh subsided and he lifted his champagne flute to toast Aziraphale with a fond smile on his face, echoing the last time they sat at this same table and did this. 

“To the world,” He repeated. Aziraphale chinked his glass and replied:  
  
“You are my world, Crowley.”

“And you’re mine.”

_Illustration by GayDemonicDisaster (Can't see the image?[CLICK HERE)](http://ukshires.net/AO3/bob-halloween-ring.jpg)_

* * *

After finishing their meal and returning home, they were met by Anathema at the door, dressed, presumably ironically, as a witch. She grinned at them. 

“Welcome home! We decided to throw a little halloween party for you, Bob said he’d never been to one, and neither had Lydia - it was Eric’s idea. He’s manning the DJ stand, we brought the kids from Tadfield with us. Madam Tracey is here as well but Shadwell said it wasn’t his cup of tea.”

She grabbed something from the table next to the door and passed it to them - it was a handful of sweets. “For Bob and Lydia - we took them trick or treating around the flats in the building earlier with Adam, Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale, but it’ll be nice if you give them something too.”

They stepped in and Anathema whistled up at Bob who was currently on the wall. He beeped in delight and snapped himself into Crowley’s arms. Crowley staggered back a step at the unexpected flying hug, and held Bob tight, laughing. 

“‘S good t’see you too, Hellspawn, hope you’ve been good for Eric this time.” Bob beeped back happily. Eric noticed Crowley and Aziraphale from his place behind the decks on the other side of the room and gave them a cheery wave. Crowley placed Bob back down on the floor, where his handkerchief ghost costume settled back down around him, then placed some sweets on his lid. 

Aziraphale smiled fondly as Lydia nudged his shins politely, gave her a pat and some sweets as well, then went off to find the Them and distribute the rest of the sweets, and perhaps a few more he miracled up besides. Bob and Lydia resumed dancing, as Anathema rejoined Newt to dance as well. 

Crowley was surprised to see Uriel sitting next to Eric, holding a glass of punch and sporting a cat costume. Eric was dressed as an avocado. Crowley decided not to ask why. He picked up a glass of punch of his own and raised it to them anyway. Both smiled back.   
  
__

_Illustration by Tweedfeather. (Can't see the image?[CLICK HERE)](http://ukshires.net/AO3/tweedfeather-ericavocadoFINAL.jpeg) _   
  


Pepper was dressed as Shuri from Black Panther, Wensleydale as Bruce Banner with Brian as the Hulk, going as a double act, and Adam dressed as Iron Man - the villian turned good. Aziraphale was slightly alarmed to see that Madam Tracey had decided to dress up as Marilyn Monroe.  
  
The music changed and “girls just want to have fun” came on. Anathema whooped and spun away from Newt to dance with Pepper. Madame Tracey looked like she wanted to dance as well, so Aziraphale spontaneously transformed into a feminine shape, complete with long pale beige and gold shimmery dress (while retaining her devil costume accoutrements of course), and took Tracey’s hand to dance as well, making her whoop out in laughter at the novelty. 

They spun around the room for a bit until Eric changed the music to Queen’s “don’t stop me now.” Crowley stepped forward and asked Tracey “May I cut in?” She nodded with a smile, allowing Crowley to take Aziraphale’s hand and spin her around the dancefloor.  
  
Eric left Adam in charge of the music and took Uriel’s hand for a dance. Newt and Anathema paired up again, and Bob decided to dance with Tracey while Lydia danced with Pepper. 

Crowley twirled away for a moment to whisper something in Adam’s ear, the Antichrist grinned and scrolled through the laptop to find the request, trying not to laugh as he did. When he found it and the next track began, Aziraphale froze and rolled her eyes at Crowley, who cackled, and began some cheesy 70s disco moves at her, singing along to the tune, as “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate began to play…

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and pulled her close.

 _“I believe in MIRAAAAAACLES!”_  
  
Aziraphale tried to avoid eye contact as he launched into the next line:  
  
_“Where're you from, you sexy thing?_

_You sexy thang you,_

_I believe in miracles,_

_since you came along,_

_you sexy thing”_  
  
Aziraphale blushed to her toes and finally giggled. Crowley hugged her close into a kiss before breaking apart to shimmy his hips suggestively. Madam Tracey laughed, Newt looked shocked and Anathema put her hand over her eyes and sighed.  
_  
“Where did you come from, angel?_

_How did you know I'd be the one?_

_Did you know your’re everything I prayed for?_

_Did you know every night and day for..._

_**Ever** yday, needing love as satisfaction? _

_Now you’re lying next to me, giving it to me”_

Angel and demon wiggled across the floor together, more dances were danced, more soft punch and wine drunk, more canapés consumed, until Anathema declared it time for the Them to go home, and Madam Tracey chivvied Newt into helping her start to clean up. At least until Aziraphale stopped them and finished the job with a snap.  
  
Due to the slightly drunk nature of the miracle however, the buffet table instead ended up on the ceiling and a duck materialised in the punch bowl, but it was the thought that counted. Crowley hiccupped, sobered up with a wince, and finished the miracle properly, carrying the duck out onto the balcony so it could fly away. 

After their guests had left, Aziraphale and Crowley fell into bed exhausted, planning to take a day or two to rest before setting off on the next part of their honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *google "Damascus goat" and you'll see what I mean. They are cute as kids then grow up into monstrosoties. 
> 
> Tweedfeather on twitter: <https://twitter.com/tweedfeather>  
> And on instagram: <https://www.instagram.com/tweedfeather>
> 
> Dedicating this chapter to J (real name is not Joan, but she was still the best vet in the world, the nicest neighbour I ever had, the best second mum ever, and one of my best friends. She is absolutely up there treating supernatural kitties.) In some cultures, halloween is not the same thing we think of it in the UK, but a celebreation remembering fondly those who are no longer with us, so I combined both in this chapter.


	41. Gifts and Appliance-cide again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ineffable husbands are home from their honeymoon, Eric and Uriel have some gifts for them, and the ineffables have a gift in return. Bob gets into trouble with a misunderstanding, and Lydia does some smiting. 
> 
> I'm back from my hiatus. My health still isn't too great, but I've got a couple more chapters written anyway. I might shift to every other Tuesday updates for a bit and see how I cope with a less intense posting schedule for a bit - some Bob is better than no Bob, and I'd rather give you quality over quantity. So as a trial period, Roomba of Doom will update once a fortnight, on a Tuesday.

Crowley dropped the hand luggage in the hall as Aziraphale hefted the suitcases without any apparent effort, both were sporting a tan, and were more relaxed than they’d been in months. 

“Eric?” Crowley called out.

Uriel sauntered through from the lounge with a cup of coffee. 

“Oh, hi, wasn’t expecting you back yet, he’s giving Lydia an undercarriage wash in the bathroom, she got a bit muddy today in the park.”

The husbands exchanged a brief glance but didn’t otherwise comment on the fact that an archangel was apparently staying over in their flat with Eric. 

“Have they been behaving? We didn’t get many texts, so assumed that no news is good news.”

“Mostly, yes. No escapes this time, but Bob did try to steal a drone.”

“A drone?” Aziraphale was incredulous.

“Yeah. Someone was flying it in the park where they shouldn’t, Bob intercepted the control signal and flew it into a tree. I had to miracle it out again. Bob tried to get it to follow us home before Lydia had words with him.”

“Sounds about right,” Crowley grumbled.

“Did you have a good honeymoon then? Well, part two anyway?”

“Oh it was lovely,” Aziraphale enthused. “We did part one as a drive around Europe, but part two we flew off to the far East, we did Arabia and India along the way, then Vietnam, Malaysia, the Philippines, China, South Korea, Taiwan, Japan, down to New Zealand and Australia. Then we did some of the Pacific islands, on to Hawaii, then Chile, Argentina, Brazil, Cuba, Honduras, Mexico, North America and Canada.”

“Quite a trip. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

“Oh no, it’s quite alright, I’ll get on that myself, oh, hello Eric, and Lydia my girl! Have you been good my dear?”

Lydia beeped enthusiastically and charged up to Aziraphale to nudge at his shins affectionately. Bob followed behind and snapped himself into Crowley’s arms for a hug, whirring his motors in a happy purr. Crowley laughed and patted him, while Bob tickled the demon’s chin with his whiskers. 

“Hey, enough of that kiddo, that tickles, stoppit!” Crowley laughed then put Bob down on the floor again, where he immediately began doing high speed circles around his feet in excitement. 

“‘S good to see you too, Hellspawn. Now go on, grown-up time, go play.” He nudged Bob with a toe, and both appliances zoomed off. 

“We realised we hadn’t got you a wedding present,” Eric began hesitantly. “I don’t get paid much down there, but I did a little expedition to the gift shop while Uriel looked after Bob and Lydia. It took a day or so, but I got you this…” He handed over a little box, wrapped in red gift wrapping paper decorated with flames and screaming souls. 

“Oh thank you,” Azirpahale exclaimed, “how very thoughtful.” He began to unwrap it, then lifted the lid from the box and extracted the gift. 

It was a small snow globe with a hellscape inside. The base read “I visited hell and all I got was this lousy snowglobe”. There was no snow in it. Aziraphale beamed anyway. “What a lovely thought. I do hope you weren’t injured badly on your expedition.”

“Nah, just a few bruises, all good.” Eric beamed. “It was a toss up between that or a snowball from hell, but that’s just an empty box. They had pet rocks and hellhound shaped chia pets as well, but I know Crowley invented those so probably doesn’t want one.” 

Uriel handed over a package to Crowley. 

“Eric said you liked these,” she said by way of explanation as he unwrapped a packet of communion wafers. Crowley’s face lit up, while Aziraphale just looked confused. 

“Oooh, spicy!” Crowley grinned, and tore the packet open and crunched a few. Sparks flew from his mouth. “I like the hot ones,” the demon mumbled around his mouthful. 

“Hot ones?” Aziraphale asked, mystified. “They’re communion wafers, they’re not flavoured?”

“They are to demons,” Eric explained. “Like extra hot naga chili crisps.” Crowley nodded and crunched happily. 

“Well thank you both ever so much for appliance sitting, we really are ever so grateful. Crowley and I were thinking, I know we offered to pay you obviously, but Crowley had another idea if you’d prefer, didn’t you darling?”

Crowley reluctantly put the bag aside and nodded. “Um, yeah. I wondered if you might like an apartment in the building, rent-free, as a place you can come and hang out when you’re not in hell, might be extra handy now as well, given, well... “ he made a vague arm movement encompassing Eric and Uriel both. “I know your digs in hell are pretty dingy, pretty sure Uriel wouldn’t want to hang out down there, and that you’d not be particularly at ease up there either.”

Eric and Uriel exchanged glances, their excitement palpable, then Uriel squeaked and wrapped the disposable demon up in an ecstatic hug. Both began nodding enthusiastically. 

“Thanks, boss, that’d be, well… amazing!” Eric seemed a bit lost for words, but let go of Uriel and spontaneously hugged Crowley, who flung his arms up in surprise, not entirely sure how to respond. 

“Uh, well, um, glad you like the idea, um… you can let go now.”

“Sorry boss.” Eric let go sheepishly, looking embarrassed. 

Crowley cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, no problem. Got a couple vacant downstairs. I’ll give you a tour and you can pick out which one you like best.” He led the couple off downstairs while Aziraphale went to unpack the suitcases. 

* * *

Bob was stuck. 

He was in the bathroom, stuck in a corner between the wall and the digital bathroom scale. He was half on and half off the scale and couldn’t reverse off, but he kept trying, moving backwards and forwards as he tried to manouvre off. The blasted thing kept beeping at him and displaying “PLEASE STEP ON.” He swore at it, and carried on shunting back and forth. 

There was a growl from the doorway. 

Lydia was there, glaring at Bob and the scale. (Lydia was perfectly capable of glaring, giving off an aura of angelic wrath in a way that left no one in any illusions as to her state of mind.)

Bob stopped, aghast. This wasn’t what it looked like!

Lydia growled her motors deeper. Bob panicked and snapped himself onto the ceiling instead, then fled, snapping himself through the door and screeching at high speed to the bedroom, where he snapped back to the floor, and dived under the bed to hide. 

* * *

"Aziraphale?"

"Yes dear?"

"Did you just smite something in the bathroom?"

"Of course not, why?"

"Could have sworn I saw a flash of lighting.... hang on... HEY! The bathroom scale is exploded!"

He thought for a moment.

"... LYDIAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"

Crowley found her grumbling in the plant room. Bob was nowhere to be seen. Aziraphale came through to find Crowley with Lydia up on bricks, wheels spinning in frustration, while he remonstrated with her. 

“Why would he do that? The scale wasn’t even sentient!”  
  
_Beeeeeep!_  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Aziraphale, go and find Bob will you? We need to ask him about this.”

After a few minutes, Aziraphale appeared, carrying a whimpering Bob. “Now look at this Lydia, poor Bob is terrified. He says he was stuck, dear. He assures me he has absolutely _no_ feelings about the scale at all, he was just trying to clean in the corner and got stuck on it.” 

Lydia grumbled a bit more. 

“Just a misunderstanding see, dear girl? Now apologise to Bob for frightening him. And that bathroom scale is coming out of your pocket money.” 

Lydia beeped quietly. Bob returned it. 

“That’s better.” Aziraphale placed Bob back on the floor, and Crowley lifted Lydia off her bricks so she could wheel around again. She nudged Bob apologetically. He then snapped up a small chalk board. On it he wrote:  
  
Bob: 1, Keurig: 0  
Lydia: 1, Salter: 0.

He eyed some of the other electrical devices in the flat then yelled after Bob and Lydia as they scooted to the next room. 

“If either of you attempt to assassinate the Bang and Olufsen sound system, I’m going to find a whole new circle of hell especially for the pair of you!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by this youtube video: <https://youtu.be/VksRdgrc-rA>


	42. Technology and books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is up to mildly demonic mischief with technology, part of which also features an easter egg from another Terry Pratchett world, and Bob has been reading rather too many fantasy books recently, which can be a problem when you can do demonic miracles to wish things into existing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW! The esteemable Elwyst has once again done an adorable illustration - this time of Bob with a new friend he met during his shenanigans in the spare room. (Or should that be Spare Oom?) See it here: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948389>
> 
> "If I fits, I sits."

Aziraphale looked up as Crowley shuffled through the front door with a grunt, hefting a large shiny printer. It wasn’t in a box, but looked very new. He disappeared through to the study and began plugging it in. Aziraphale went through to investigate. 

“That looks nice, where did you get it?”

“Flat 24 threw it out.”

“Why? It looks brand new.”

“It was on an unsecured network.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means I sent it a document to print which read ‘Hello. I am your printer, I have become self aware. Feed me ink or I’ll print out your internet search history when your wife is home alone.’”  
  
“CROWLEY! You take that back this instant and explain.”

The demon pouted. Aziraphale gave him a steely look. The silent battle of wills lasted approximately 5 more seconds before Crowley caved in, as always, and unplugged the printer again with bad grace. 

“FINE.” He stomped back out of the flat again with the printer. Aziraphale glared after him. Bob chuckled quietly in the corner, Aziraphale gave him a sharp look. “And don’t _you_ get any ideas either, young lad.”

* * *

Crowley came back a little while later, looking sheepish. Aziraphale graced him with a small nod of approval.

“On the subject of technology dear, I keep meaning to ask about the second computer you have in the spare room - it’s always turned on, isn’t that a big waste of electricity?”

“DON’T TURN THAT OFF!” Crowley yelped, looking panicked. 

“Oh I haven’t touched it, I was just curious. It looks fairly old, I thought you liked all cutting edge technology all the time?”

“Can’t upgrade that one, can’t turn it off until the game is finished. It’s on autopilot at the moment.”

“Game?”

“Yeah. I got it in 1998. It’s called ‘ _Journey to Alpha Centauri in real time.’_ It takes 3,000 years to play.”

“Three THOUSAND years?” Who on earth would create such a thing, what’s the point?”

Crowley shrugged. “‘S complicated, you’d probably like it, it’s a book thing. Someone mentioned it in a book as a joke, so another human created the game for real. The idea is to fly your spaceship to Alpha Centauri. But you have to do it in real time, so it’ll take 3,000 years. I’m leaving the computer running till I get there. Have to keep updating my diary to remind me to update my diary, to remind me to update my diary and so on, for when I eventually get there.”

“What happens when you get there?”

“You get a message on the screen saying ‘welcome to Alpha Centauri, now go home.’”

“Is that it?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Why not? I built Alpha Centauri, and I’m probably the only person capable of playing the game to the end.”

“So you’re going to leave that computer running in your spare room until…?”

“4998.” Crowley grinned. “Yup.”

* * *

_(We are going to take a slight trip into the future here so we can observe Crowley’s big moment.)_

"Angel! ANGEL!!! Get in here, it's happening... ANGEL??? HEY!!!"

 _‘Welcome to Alpha Centauri. Now go home.’_ The Message flashed up on the screen, then disappeared, and the screen went blank. 

Aziraphale ambled through from the lounge with a mug of cocoa.

 _"Damn,_ you missed it. Bloody hell, Aziraphale, I’ve been waiting for this for _three thousand years_ and you couldn’t get in here any quicker? You missed the message! I’m going to have to play it all over again now!” Crowley whined in exasperation. With a frustrated sigh, he pressed “start” on the menu again, and set up the autopilot. “Don’t you dare miss it next time, ok?”

* * *

_  
_ _(Back to present day)_

“Speaking of the spare room, I wonder if you’d come and take a look at something for me, darling.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Well I noticed that Bob had been spending a lot of time in there, and I kept finding the wardrobe door open. I took a look and found something… unusual.”

“Unusual how?”

“Come and see.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale to the spare room. Bob scuttled out at high speed with a startled, guilty-sounding beep. Crowley eyed him suspiciously, but decided not to say anything yet. The wardrobe door was open again, it was a push-to open latch, walk-in wardrobe. He peered in. 

“So?”

“Behind the coats, dear.”

Crowley parted the jackets, and felt a cold breeze on his face. Confused, he pulled back and gave Aziraphale a questioning look.

“Go on,” The angel encouraged him. 

Crowley stepped in.

He looked around. 

“Well ** _I_ **didn’t do this. _**….BOB!”**_

Bob sheepishly scooted back into the bedroom again. Crowley pelted him with a snowball. 

“No summoning Narnia in my bloody spare room wardrobe you sneaky little bastard!”

He gave Aziraphale an accusing look. “Any other books you’ve been reading him that I should know about? Is he going to start summoning dragons next?”

“I hope not. Now Bob dear, you really need to consult us before creating portals into other universes in the house. Now I’m going to have to banish this one and put a child lock on the door you realise?”

Bob beeped sadly. 

“Right. Now don’t do it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In “Only You Can Save Mankind” by Sir Terry Pratchett, the character Wobbler writes a computer game entitled Journey to Alpha Centauri. The game is meant to be played in real-time, meaning it would take three thousand years to finish the journey. If the game were actually played for three thousand years, the player would be rewarded with a message saying "Welcome to Alpha Centauri. Now go home". This inspired an interactive fiction game developed by Julian Fleetwood, Journey to Alpha Centauri (In Real Time). It was released in 1998, with the same premise of requiring three thousand years of game play to complete.


	43. gifts again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Bob do with all those coins he vacuums up? Indeed, if he can manifest lego that OTHER vacuums in the universe have sucked up, then presumably he can also manifest the coins that any normal vacuum sucks up too, in addition to his own. 
> 
> So what does a demonic roomba spend his pocket money on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the last chapter, the lovely Elwyst did an adorable illustration of what Bob got up to while he was exploring Narnia. You know cats - "if I fits, I sits"? well.... <https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948389> Aslan is a big kitty.

Aziraphale and Crowley wandered along arm in arm as the appliances trundled along slightly ahead of them, exploring here and there. Lydia mulched fallen leaves, and Bob vacuumed up rubbish, plus the occasional rattle of a dropped coin, at least those that hadn’t previously been glued down by Crowley. He had his launching arm fitted to his lid again by request, and Lydia was towing a trailer full of tennis balls for him. 

When they got to the park, Crowley fetched ice creams for the two of them, despite the chilliness of the day, while Lydia and Bob scooted off towards a grassy area where some dogs were being exercised. Bob lined up next to Lydia and nudged a lever that dropped a tennis ball into his lever arm hopper. Lydia’s friend the sheepdog spied them and cocked her head curiously. Spying the tennis ball, her interest grew more focussed, and she dropped to the floor, watching intently. 

Bob beeped at her, drew his lever arm back, then let it go with a ping. The sheepdog leapt into action and pelted after the ball, sprinting across the grass, as Bob reloaded with another, which he let off for a nearby labrador. Other dogs had noticed what was going on and were starting to gather. A little Jack Russel terrier got the next one. 

Bob kept going until he’d run out of tennis balls, then trundled back to Crowley with a happy beep. Lydia trundled off to mow some grass. One of the dog owners approached the husbands on the bench, holding several tennis balls.

“Thanks for that, would you like these back again?”   


“Oh not at all my dear,” Aziraphale beamed at her. “Please keep them with our compliments, or leave them near the tree for other dogs to play with at the park if you’d rather not take them home.”

“Oh, thanks.” She looked surprised, but whistled her dogs to heel and waved goodbye. Aziraphale finished his ice cream and patted Crowley on the knee.

“Well, shall we head home again then, love?”

“Sure. it’s getting bloody freezing out here, I need to go and defrost, preferably in the middle of a log fire.” Crowley stood and stretched, dropping the stick from his lolly, but Lydia spotted his attempt at littering and ran over it, chipping the wooden stick into splinters, then nudging Bob until he vacuumed it up. Crowley stuck his tongue out at her. 

* * *

As they passed a shop, Bob paused, seemingly peering through the window. Aziraphale gave him a questioning look. Bob spun around and made his way towards the door. 

“Whatever do you want in there, dear?”

_ Beep! _

Bob turned around and nudged at Aziraphale’s toes, indicating that he and Crowley should stay outside and wait. 

“You want to go in on your own, whatever for?”

_ Beeeeep!  _

“Alright, alright, settle down. Crowley and I will wait outside for you. It’s your pocket money I suppose.”

_ Beep. _

Bob nudged his way through the door and into the shop. 

Once inside the boutique, he trundled towards a display of jumpers like the one he’d seen in the window. They were black with a red piped detail on the collar and cuffs, and a small green crocodile by the shoulder on the front. True, it wasn’t a snake, but it was still a reptile. He grabbed the corner of one from the display by flicking a corner with his whiskers until he could catch it in his brushes, and dragged it across the floor to the cashier’s desk. She was busy on her phone and hadn’t even noticed yet. 

Next he made his way along to a display of Burberry scarves hanging on a rack. He lifted his lever arm up and used it to snag one of them, then pulled back and forth until it came off the hanger, the beige tartan woollen fabric draping over him. Then he returned to the till and beeped loudly. 

The cashier, whose name badge proclaimed her to be Fatima, peered over the counter in confusion. “What the hell?” She peered around, her colleague was upstairs in the stock room, they didn’t have a roomba in the shop that she knew of, was she pranking Fatima?

The roomba beeped again. It revved its motors and began to spit out pound coins at her feet, with the occasional slightly torn note as well. Fatima stared on incredulously. Soon there was a sizeable pile of pound coins (and a few other denominations) on the floor by the counter, along with half a torn £5 note, a mostly intact £20, and a random $100 note as well. 

“Am I on one of those hidden camera shows or summat?”

_ Beep! _

“Whaddya want?”

_ BEEP! _

“I don’t speak beep, wot’s all the money for?”

Bob shimmied and rolled his googly eyes in exasperation. This was a shop wasn’t it? He brought items to the desk, he gave money, he was supposed to get the items wasn’t he? Why wasn’t the human getting it?

_ Beep beep _ , he explained patiently. 

“Huh?”

_ BEEEEEP! _

* * *

Crowley was scrolling through his phone but didn’t even look up when he heard a high pitched squeal. To him, his demonic minion causing chaos was just what came with the territory. Aziraphale did however, and rushed into the shop in alarm, trailed by Lydia. A shop assistant was flailing behind the counter at a small cloud of bees which were swarming around her. Bob was swearing away to himself on the floor, tangled in a Burberry scarf, next to a black and red Lacoste jumper. There was a pile of vacuumed up money in front of him.

“ _ No, Bob, PLEASE do not attack the shopkeeper with bees just because she cannot understand you!” _

_ Beep! _

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and snapped. The shopkeeper went blank. “Robert J. Crowley, will you kindly summon your bees and send them outside?”

Bob beeped sullenly. The swarm coalesced into a tidy ball and made their way towards the door, which Lydia nudged open to let them out. Aziraphale squatted down next to Bob. “Now dear boy, what on earth were you up to?”

_ Beep, _ Bob admitted, shamefaced.  _ Beep. _

“I see. That is terribly kind of you, but you must remember that humans can’t understand you. How long have you been saving all of this anyway?”

Bob gave a tiny side to side movement that indicated a shrug. He’d been vacuuming up dropped coins for a couple of years, and Crowley occasionally flicked the odd coin at him calling it ‘pocket money’. He’d thus been filing it away in a pocket dimension of his own for a long time, waiting for the opportunity to buy something with it. 

“So you wanted to get the jumper to keep Crowley warm? And the scarf?”

_ Beep. _

“Oh Bob, that is very sweet, it is lovely, and I’m sorry I had to spoil your surprise. It’s very fetching. I’ll deal with the cashier for you, and have her wrap up the presents. I promise I shall look surprised when I open the scarf again.” He gathered up the pile of money and the clothing, placed it on the counter, counted out the right amount - it was a lot, but surprisingly, Bob had enough. Although Azirpahale did have to miracle the $100 bill into the sterling equivalent instead. He dropped the rest of the coins back on the floor again for Bob to collect, and pushed the rest over towards Fatima. 

“We will be taking these today please, and can you gift wrap them dear? You won’t remember the bees or any unpleasantness.” He snapped his fingers.

Fatima blinked, then smiled. “Of course sir.” She set about folding and wrapping the jumper and scarf, then handed over the receipt with a smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, Fatima, you’ll have a lovely day.” It was a funny way to phrase it, she thought later, but she did indeed have a very lovely day for the rest of the day. The pleasant man left, placing the shopping bags on a trailer being towed behind a robot lawn mower, and tailed by a roomba, who beeped apologetically at her as it left. 

“Everything alright, Angel?” Crowley looked up from his phone for a moment. Aziraphale gave him a strained look. 

“Your child was creating chaos again, dear.”

“Was he? Good job, Bob, that’s m’boy!”

“Please don’t encourage him, dear.”

“That’s my literal job, Angel. He’s demonic, I’m demonic, we’re supposed to sow at least minor discord. No one was hurt were they?”

“Of course not.”

“See? What’s the problem then?” Crowley took Aziraphale’s arm and sauntered along with a happy smile. Aziraphale sighed. He supposed it did the pair of them good to let their demonic side out with a little chaos now and then, and as Crowley pointed out, no harm done. 

* * *

When they got home, Bob nudged at Lydia’s trailer until Aziraphale lifted the posh card bag from it and placed it on the floor for him, before unhitching the trailer so that Lydia could go and relax. Bob began nudging the bag across the floor until it was in front of the sofa where Crowley had sat down. 

“What’s that then, kiddo?”

“I think he’d like you to open it, dear.”

Crowley fished in the bag and withdrew two gift wrapped squishy packages. 

“I believe the smaller one is for me, I had to intervene.”

Crowley passed the smaller package over, and ripped open his own. He unfolded the black and red warm jumper, and his eyes went wide. He looked at Aziraphale, he looked at Bob. He looked at the jumper again. 

Once the demon had quit making happy surprised consonant agglomerations, and noticed that Aziraphale had unwrapped a beige and tartan scarf, his bottom lip wobbled slightly. 

“Are you alright, Crowley?”

“Gnh,” Crowley managed, then slid off the sofa onto the floor and swept Bob up into a hug. “Thanks kid, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“Would you like a handkerchief, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

_ “‘M NOT crying!” _ Crowley sniffed.

“Of course not, dear. Thank you for the delightful present, Bob, it’s lovely.”


	44. Nativity of Doom - bonus chapter by loveneedlesandhay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BONUS CHAPTER - [loveneedlesandhay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveneedlesandhay/pseuds/loveneedlesandhay) wrote a fantastic spin off fic about our ineffable appliances and ineffable husbands at Christmas, I love it to bits!

Whilst I'm mostly posting once a fortnight, the amazing and talented [Loveneedlesandhay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveneedlesandhay/pseuds/loveneedlesandhay) wrote this FABULOUS spin off fic which I'm adopting as the official extra chapter.  
  
It includes a hilarious illustration too. I bloody LOVE IT. Thank you! 

  
  
**[CLICK HERE to read!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237770) **


	45. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Doomba Christmas special! The run-up to Christmas, Christmas day, antics in Heaven, and a dash of hastily cobbled together poetry (with apologies).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all you lovely Bob fans who have followed this tale thus far, the next chapter will be on Tuesday the 5th of January. Have a lovely holiday everyone. <3

It was quiet… too quiet. Gabriel looked around nervously. The Goose Alarm hadn’t gone off for a day and a half, and he was getting nervous - everyone was. The angelic host was on edge, flinching at every shadow. The heavenly choirs had been busy practising for Christmas - they’d been singing carols non stop around the clock in shifts.    
  
The cherubim had been delegated to decorating duty, and had deployed miles of tinsel down every avenue, strings of lights festooned the buildings, and the goat’s droppings were rather more sparkly than they perhaps should have been. After ensuring that his office was no longer decorated and relatively goat-proofed, Gabriel had left them in the care of his secretary, Lorabiel, and come out to inspect the street decorations around heaven. 

But Hjonkers was notable by his absence - and it was putting everyone on edge. That damned bird was up to something, he was sure of it. 

Gabriel was ambling around a corner checking everything was spick and span, when something glittery in the wrong place caught his eye. 

… It was a length of red tinsel slithering around a corner and out of sight. 

Suspicious, he crept after it, peering around the corner of a building, he glimpsed the tinsel just as it slid around the next corner, and scurried to catch up. He deployed his wings hoping it would enable a quick getaway if needed. 

It hadn’t occurred to Gabriel, until after he ran around the next corner, that geese might be capable of making giant spider webs out of festive decorations, but then, he mused, as he hung there tightly tangled in tinsel… you learn something new every day. 

_ HONK! _

Gabriel winced as the damnable creature pecked another one of his feathers out, and further contemplated that this was possibly why some humans ate roast goose for Christmas.

* * *

Crowley was sitting on the floor, carefully tightening a bolt on a folding lever arm he’d attached to Bob. It was his regular throwing lever arm, but Crowley had added another length of aluminium and another joint so it had a reach up to about the demon’s head height now. Finally he stood, and hooked a loop of tinsel to the top of it.

“Right, off you go.”

Bob beeped in excitement then approached the Christmas tree carefully, spun around slightly, and hooked the top of the tinsel near the top on his third attempt. When Crowley stepped forward to help, Bob beeped at him in annoyance and carried on trying on his own. Crowley stepped back to watch. 

Once the start of the tinsel strand was hooked somewhere near the top of the tree, Bob beeped again happily, and then proceeded to scoot circles around it, lowering his lever arm gradually as he went, threading the tinsel in a spiral all the way down. Once he reached the bottom he awkwardly used the lever arm end and a bit of forward-and-back movement to tuck the loose end in close to the trunk. He wheeled back a bit and studied his work critically. He seemed satisfied, and nudged Crowley’s foot in thanks for the assistance. 

“No problem dude, go fetch Aziraphale and Lydia, it’s their turn to take over now.”

Bob scooted through to summon the angelic beings, who came through to the lounge to admire his work so far with the tinsel. 

“Oh very snazzy work there, Bob,” Aziraphale beamed at him. “Now Lydia dear, these are baubles, some of them are rather old and delicate, so be careful you don’t run over them. I’m going to lay them out on the rug here and you point at which ones you want me to hang in each spot as I work my way from the top down, alright?”

Lydia beeped and waited patiently while Aziraphale unwrapped the baubles and showed each one to Lydia before laying it down on the rug. There were pretty hand painted glass baubles which were rather ancient, along with more modern ones. 

“This one is all the way from Lauscha in Germany, they were invented there you know. This one is a couple of hundred years old. I placed a protective miracle on it a long time ago to ensure it never falls off the tree. It’s called a ‘kugel’ in German. Shall we put this one in pride of place near the top, do you think?”

Lydia admired the shiny bauble and beeped in assent, then looked over the rest of the selection as Aziraphale hung the first one. 

“Did you say ‘kugel?’” Crowley called through to Aziraphale.

“Yes dear.”

“Well I’m sure I can cook you some up later if you like.”

“Not the pie dear, the Christmas decoration.”

“Oh ok.” There was a pause. “I could cook one anyway.”

“Actually that would be delightful for dinner darling, thank you.”   
  
Lydia pointed out the next she thought should be hung up, then the next, and the next, as soothing Christmas choral hymns played in the background. 

* * *

Bob was flicking through catalogues again. But this time there were Christmas specials in the electricals catalogue. He beeped in surprise as he spied something that gave him an idea. First he went to the plant room and nudged an empty plant pot into the middle of the room, then he dragged the open catalogue through and placed it next to the pot. That should be sufficient hint, he thought. 

* * *

It was Christmas eve, and there had been what was for England, unseasonal snow. Generally winter didn’t get into it’s stride until february at least, aside from the odd flurry, and London rarely got anything more than a bit of dirty slush for a few hours. 

But it was honest-to-goodness snow and snow drifts on the pavement. The news was going wild about it. Aziraphale wondered if it might have anything to do with the fact that Adam Young and his family were taking a holiday in London over Christmas to enjoy the sights, go to the panto and generally have a bit of a different festive season this year. “Ideal weather for the time of year” might not just be centred on Tadfield, but wherever the young lad happened to be at the time. If he wanted snow at Christmas, then snow he was going to get, whether he realised he created it or not. 

Crowley came through the front door, melted snow dripping off his boots, looking disgruntled. 

“I just had to miracle a broken hip back together.” He groused. “Poor Mrs. Stanley slipped on ice outside the building. I persuaded her it was just surprise and a bit of a bruise and helped her back inside. Lydia, d’you want to lend a hand with something?”

The helpful little robo mower perked up and she beeped happily. 

“Yup, of course you do, why did I even ask? C’mon Lyds, going to give you a winter upgrade, follow me…”

* * *

Half an hour later and Aziraphale watched proudly as Lydia set about bulldozing the snow from the pavement outside the building using her new snow plough attachment, while Bob followed behind towing an extremely small trailer filled with grit, which sprinkled out behind. Crowley had miracled the grit supply to last as long as was needed - it simply dispensed as much as was required regardless of the apparent visible amount in the little trailer, which never emptied completely before being magically re-filled. 

Soon there were several onlookers smiling at the industrious little robo-mower who was so fastidiously clearing the pavement. Once the stretch outside the building was clear, she beeped to ask to go on a walk, and they carried on clearing all the way to the park, making sure to stop at some homes along the way where they knew that other elderly people lived, and making little detours to clear their front paths as well. 

* * *

* * *

_ ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a….  _

... a small Roomba trundled quietly across the floor, vacuuming up mince pie crumbs and sooty footprints.

**_Ok, let’s try again:_ **   
  
_ ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the flat, not a creature was stirring, except for a vac; _

_ The stockings were hung about with abandon,   
With no chimney for them, the placing was random; _

_   
Lydia dozed on her charging port snug,   
The Roomba kept watch, while cleaning the rug; _

_   
Crowley had set out mince pies and sherry,   
Which Aziraphale would later consume and be merry; _

_   
Angel and demon pondered in their room,   
How Angel might sneak past the Roomba of Doom; _

_   
For Aziraphale had bought, for that very night,   
A santa outfit, although it was a little bit tight. _

_   
The plan was to sneak past the appliances quiet,   
To put out their gifts as a surprise, in private. _

_   
But as Aziraphale snuck from bedroom to lounge,   
He spied the small vac, for crumbs he did scrounge. _

_   
Somewhat perturbed by this turn of events,    
Aziraphale paused, clutching presents. _

_   
A miracle then, to distract the appliance,   
To enable the angel to sneak by in silence. _

_   
There was a snap and the sound of a smash,   
Which did make little Bob zoom off in a dash. _

_   
To find what had broken, to clean up the mess,   
While “Santa” crept by, his idea a success. _

_   
He placed all the gifts, so shiny and merry,   
And nibbled a mince pie, and drank all the sherry. _

_   
Then crept back to bed, having made sure to mark   
Big sooty boot prints behind in the dark. _

_   
So when Bob returned and espied the evidence   
He paused to admire, with amazement and reverence. _

_   
Santa had been, and consumed the pies,   
But left soot on the floor - what a lovely surprise! _

_   
The good little vac, he cleaned up the floor,   
Then went for a nap, his power to restore. _

_   
He dreamed of his parents, and of a mower,   
And all the fun things that he wanted to show her; _

_   
Aziraphale, in bed, snuggled up with his snake,   
And kissed him gently, so that he wouldn’t wake; _

_   
He smiled to himself as he cuddled his spouse,   
And dreamed of a move to a nice little house; _

_   
A cottage perhaps, somewhere by the sea,   
Where they could all live, content as could be. _

* * *

* * *

Christmas morning. 

Crowley tried to cling to sleep, but the incessant beeping of not one, but two impatient appliances wasn’t going to let him get off that easily. He rolled over, bleary-eyed and disgruntled, seeing two expectant electrical devices gazing up at him in excitement. Aziraphale had draped them both in tinsel. Bob was wearing a very small santa hat. 

“Ok, ok, I’m awake. Go ask Aziraphale to give you some treats from your stockings while I get ready, I need coffee first.”

A few minutes later, Bob reappeared in the bedroom with a steaming mug of coffee on his lid in place of the santa hat. Crowley accepted it with a smile and a little pat on the little appliance’s lid, slurped some of the hot brew, then began to wriggle into his ridiculously tight jeans. 

When he came through to the lounge, Aziraphale was sitting on the floor next to the christmas tree amid a pile of presents. Bob and Lydia each had a stocking with some small gifts that Aziraphale had allowed them to have while they waited for Crowley. Each one had a pocket sized can of WD40, Bob’s had a refill pack of filters for his dust box, and Lydia had a blade sharpening kit. 

“Morning,” Crowley groused, the caffeine still working it’s way through his system. He leaned over and gave his angel a hug and a kiss, then dragged up a floor cushion and plopped down on it to join in. 

First Aziraphale dug out a present for Lydia from under the tree and unwrapped it for her. She beeped in delight to see it was a folding arm attachment that could be bolted to her frame to allow her to poke and manipulate things, rather like Bob’s sometime attachment. 

Bob was delighted to see that his hint hadn’t gone unnoticed, as his gift was a very small electronic dancing christmas tree that sang christmas songs. Crowley placed it on top of his housing, and Bob scooted through to the plant room to show off his new passenger to the vegetation in there. 

Crowley next handed a wrapped gift to his husband, which turned out to be a rare first edition book he’d been searching for for a few decades. Aziraphale fairly glowed with delight that Crowley had tracked it down for him. It had taken a lot of research across three continents and several bribes before the demon had been able to acquire it, but it was all worth it for the beaming smile from his Angel. 

Crowley’s first gift from Aziraphale were some electric heated socks to keep his toes cosy on cold days, and an electric blanket for his side of the bed, so that he could keep warmer than the angel preferred at night. 

Bob scooted back in and nudged a wrapped gift over to Aziraphale.

“Bob and Lydia asked to go and do some christmas shopping with me, this is from both of them.” Crowley explained. 

Aziraphale opened the parcel to reveal a cosy fawn coloured cashmere jumper, then passed another, smaller gift to Crowley. 

“On our walk, they asked me to help get this for you as well, dear,” he explained. 

Crowley tore into the brightly coloured paper to find a pair of soft fleece lined black leather gloves. 

“Thanks, guys. They’re perfect.” He gave each appliance a hug, then grabbed another gift for Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale unwrapped the large box carefully, inside were a selection of hand-dipped water marbled endpapers and premium cuts of leather in a gorgeous book binding kit, along with a pack of gold leaf and embossing tools to finish them beautifully. 

“I know you got that new set of books you’d wanted for ages but they all need restoring, so you can make them a matched set with the leather bindings and gilt finished spines.” Crowley explained. 

“Oh darling, it’s perfect, thank you. I have one more gift for you as well…” Aziraphale stood and retreated to the utility, where he’d hidden the gift temporarily in a cupboard he knew Crowley wouldn’t bother investigating, especially as he’d placed a warding miracle over it to deflect attention. He came back through carefully carrying an elaborate bonsai tree. 

“I couldn’t wrap it of course, it’s a Shishigashira Maple Bonsai Tree. At the Chelsea flower show, while you were chatting to those people who cultivate the lovely roses, I found a bonsai specialist based in the South Downs, and they sent me photographs of this lovely specimen that they said you might like, after I had a chat with them.” He anxiously watched for Crowley’s approval. 

“Angel, this is… this is stunning. It must have set you back thousands!”

“Well..” Aziraphale blushed, not willing to divulge exactly how many thousand pounds he had paid for the premium specimen. “I know you mentioned liking them before, and you can literally spend hundreds of years caring for a tree, so I _also_ got you an immature one you can train yourself into the shape you’d like.” He stood and went back to the utility again, returning with a small Chinese elm. 

Crowley’s face lit up at the second tree and he spent some time inspecting both with a wide grin. 

“They’re amazing, thank you, Angel.” He leaned over to give his husband a very thorough kissing, until Bob beeped in embarrassment, and they broke off with a smile. “Sorry kids.” He slapped his thighs and stood up. “Right, going to get the turkey in the oven for later, then we’ve got some house calls to make while it cooks. C’mon gang.”

Once the turkey was prepared and cooking, Crowley hitched up Lydia’s trailer, plus a smaller trailer for Bob, and they set out on a tour of the apartment building, knocking on doors and delivering little parcels containing small gifts for each tenant. Aziraphale had spent some time using his angelic abilities to discern exactly what each person would appreciate most, and had embraced his santa role with enthusiasm. He donned a bright red santa outfit and fake beard, while Crowley declined the suggestion of dressing as an elf, he nonetheless distributed the gifts from the little trailers, which seemed to hold more than was physically possible. 

They stopped by Eric and Uriel’s flat and dropped off a bottle of champagne, some christmas ornaments to start their collection, some throw cushions, big fluffy blankets, and other home comforts that’d be appreciated in a starter home. 

They stopped by Mrs. Stanley’s flat last, and gave her a box containing some home baked ginger biscuits, a set of festive cookie cutters, and a small catnip toy for Albert the cat. 

They got home and unwrapped the gifts from Eric and Uriel - a heat lamp for Crowley to bask under when in his snake form, some scented feather oil for Aziraphale’s wing preening, and some jingly cat toy balls for Bob and Lydia to play with. Mrs. Stanley had given them a small potted herb garden arrangement in a fancy basket for the kitchen for Crowley, and a tin of home baked shortbread biscuits for Aziraphale.

Later, while angel and demon enjoyed their christmas dinner, Aziraphale miracled up a fresh lawn in the plant room for Lydia to mow, and Bob followed her, vacuuming up the cut grass. After dinner, Aziraphale and Crowley snuggled up on the sofa together to watch Die Hard, which Crowley asserted was the best Christmas movie of all time, while flicking bits of popcorn on the floor for Bob to vacuum up. 

* * *

In Gabriel’s office, Gaspar, Melchior and Balthasar stood around the desk, nibbling at the cascade of fresh cut grass, then the regular dispensed pieces of popcorn that manifested out of the aether there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa plot bunny - googling for top notch British bonsai tree sellers and this one is in the South Downs! https://www.britishbonsai.co.uk


	46. All creatures great and smoke, I mean small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale brings round an old friend, who has developed a bit of a personality quirk since Crowley met her last. The title is a book quote, when Aziraphale is drunk in the bookshop talking about krakens, he utters the line.

Crowley looked at the cardboard box in Aziraphale’s hands warily. It had air holes. 

“What…” he asked pointedly, “... is  _ that _ ?” 

“Ophelia”

Crowley raised a questioning eyebrow. “And who or what is Ophelia?”

“You don’t remember her? You did bring her back to life after the birthday party after all, then she flew home. The dovecote is on the roof of the bookshop. She has a few friends up there, and Harry of course in his hutch. I was wondering about bringing them around here anyway, but Ophelia isn’t well right now, she hurt her wing, she had an… altercation with a cat.”

“Altercation?” Crowley raised a quizzical eyebrow. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and regarded the box in his hands with quiet resignation.

“Ophelia thinks she’s invincible. Ever since you resurrected her, she thinks she’s immortal and as such has no fear. She saw next door’s cat and decided to attack it. It did not go well, although the cat didn’t come out of it unscathed either. Anyhow, her wing is still healing up, so I brought her home for some intensive care while she regains her strength. The vet has pinned the broken bone but she’s lost muscle and needs time to get back to flying. Until then I don’t want her able to get out as she’s vulnerable.”

Aziraphale opened the box and a pretty white dove poked her head out, taking in her surroundings with interest. She cooed at Crowley. Crowley immediately melted. “Can I hold her?” Aziraphale held the box up with a little grin as the demon gently lifted the dove out and cradled her in his hands with a soft smile and stroked her feathers. One wing was banadaged to her body to keep it still.

The angel couldn’t help but feel a burst of love and nostalgia at the sight as he set the box aside. “This reminds me of you and Marjorie” he murmured as he stepped close to Crowley, resting his head against his shoulder to watch the dove snuggling into the demon’s hands, feeling safe and loved. Crowley looked at Aziraphale sharply. 

“You remember Marjorie?” He felt slightly embarrassed. He didn’t expect the angel to recall something that far back*. _(*Click_ _[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318647) for explanation)_

Crowley being a soft demon was nothing new, Aziraphale thought fondly. He pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek and miracled up an enclosure for her in a corner of the lounge. Bob trundled through and stopped, regarding Crowley carefully. Crowley eyed Bob in return. 

“Ok, Hellspawn, this is Mar… This is Ophelia, she’s going to be staying with us for a little while and you’re going to be nice to her, she’s hurt.” Lydia trundled in from the study behind Bob and took in the scene. “That goes for you too, Lyds. Ophelia is our guest, you’re both to be nice to her while she recovers, ok?” Both appliances beeped in response, and watched as Crowley settled her into her little aviary. He turned to Aziraphale who had settled on the sofa. 

“So how many friends does she have back home?” Aziraphale did a mental stocktake.

“Let’s see, there’s Gerald, Malcolm, Rachael, Carole, Azalea, Elizabeth and Diana, so… seven. Eight with Ophelia. Then Harry the rabbit. There’s a little bit of lawn up on the flat roof and his hutch opens onto it. I just miracle the grass and dandelions to flourish and see to them every day when I go over to tend to the shop.”

Crowley mulled it over, and the terrace on the roof of his own, rather larger building. “I could fit a dovecote up there if you wanted to move them in too. How long would it take to train them to stay here instead of at yours?”

“Well I’d need to build an aviary around the dovecote at first, and leave it in place for at least four weeks for them to settle in and learn it as their new home. Harry would need some lawn as well, unless he’s to be a house rabbit. I couldn’t let him be that in the bookshop unfortunately, he has a tendency to nibble on the books, but I daresay he’d fit in well here.”

Crowley considered it, his head on one side. “Could do both. House rabbit with access to a run upstairs on the roof. I could probably install some kind of access ramp just for him with a cat flap on the roof.”

“Oh would you, darling? Thank you. I didn’t think you’d be interested in having them here.”

“Anything for you, Angel, and you are spending more time here than at the bookshop anyway, make sense for you to have your little magical menagerie here too where you can keep an eye on them. Besides, fair’s fair - I let Dexter and his mates hang out in the car park under the apartment building.”

“Dexter?” Aziraphale was confused.

“Yeah, one of my friends, he’s a rat. Very useful dude. His great great granddad and his family helped me take down BT tower before the whole antichrist business. They still come in handy from time to time. I let them live down there, let them have free rein of the food waste bins and leave them a few bags of grain now and then, in return, they lend a hand where needed. Just don’t try to pay him off with broccoli, Dexter doesn’t like broccoli.” 

He took in Aziraphale’s confused expression. “I’ll take you down to meet them sometime.”

* * *

Crowley set about building a dovecote and aviary on the roof. He decided to use mundane methods rather than just miracling it into being. He’d already built a potting shed up there and a small garden for his plants which liked rather more sunlight and weren’t averse to British weather conditions. Recently he’d installed a number of raised beds to plant vegetables for the kitchen. He did consent to a small miracle to bring an expanse of grass into being for Harry’s future enclosure however, and to create a ramped tunnel from his penthouse flat below up onto the flat roof for the rabbit. It was easier than the noise, dust and hard work of using a cutting saw to get through the reinforced concrete. Besides, the noise would have upset Ophelia.

He grappled with the chicken wire mesh for a while, swearing under his breath until he conceded to allowing Aziraphale to help him erect the aviary section. Aziraphale brought Lydia up to the roof to mow the new lawn, much to her delight. Bob scooted around vacuuming up the sawdust from Crowley’s joinery. Once they’d finished they retired downstairs again for a shower and a drink to refresh themselves. 

Crowley brought Ophelia out of her enclosure to let her wander around the flat a little. She waddled around on the floor to start with, as her injured wing was still bandaged to her body while it healed. Bob scooted up to her slowly so as not to alarm her, and she regarded him warily, then cooed. Bob thought for a moment, and then spun his motors up carefully in such a way as to make a close approximation of the noise. Ophelia blinked in surprise. Bob turned slowly and trundled away. Ophelia appeared to think for a moment, and then followed him. 

As Crowley and Aziraphale sat down to some Lancashire hot pot with fresh baked bread rolls for dinner, they watched Ophelia carefully following Bob around the apartment. Wherever he went, she followed. When some breadcrumbs fell from the table to the floor, Bob regarded them for a second, then, instead of charging forward to consume them as he usually did, he skirted around them to allow Ophelia to see them, then peck them up. 

Crowley stared down, his own dinner quite forgotten. Last time Bob had encountered crumbs in the presence of a bird, there’d been an explosion of feathers. “Must be your angelic influence” he muttered to an equally surprised Aziraphale. “Good boy Bob, here, both of you share this…” he picked up a bread roll and crumbled the entire thing into breadcrumbs then swept the whole lot off the table onto the floor for them. Once Ophelia was full, Bob devoured the rest. 

Later, snuggled on the sofa together watching TV, Bob trundled into the lounge to join them. Ophelia was sitting on his back, enjoying a ride. Crowley laughed as Bob settled down in front of the sofa to watch with them, then Lydia rumbled in a moment later to join them as well. Aziraphale stretched out and rested his feet on Lydia’s housing, and she settled down, lowering her cutting height contentedly and emitting a low, satisfied rumble like a purr. Crowley reached down to gently lift Ophelia off Bob and cradle her in his arms as they relaxed. 

* * *

A few days later, Aziraphale brought the rest of the doves over and installed them in the dovecote on the roof so they could settle in before Ophelia rejoined them. Bob zoomed around the aviary in excitement, watching the new arrivals settle in. The doves regarded the vacuum cleaner warily, but soon got accustomed to his presence. 

Harry on the other hand took one look at Bob and hopped over to him to rub his chin on top of his housing affectionately. Unfortunately he then went to investigate Lydia’s charging port, picked up the cable and made to chew on it. Lydia zoomed across with a blaring beep to chase him off, then sat over the cable protectively while she beeped for Aziraphale’s help. 

The angel came to find out what the problem was, but couldn’t understand why Lydia wouldn’t get off her own charging cable, save to nudge Bob. Bob circled Aziraphale’s feet, nudged his ankle, then scooted toward the study. The angel followed him to see what the problem was. Bob went straight to the spelling board and pointed out the problem. Quite apart from the damage to the cord, Harry might get injured. Aziraphale considered the problem for a moment, before returning to the lounge and taking a look. “Just move off there for a moment please, Lydia…” The robo mower complied and waited by anxiously. 

Aziraphale snapped and re-routed the cable so that instead of trailing across the floor, it was embedded into the concrete and emerged underneath the charging port itself, rabbit-proofed. He petted Lydia on her housing then went to repeat the miracle on Bob’s lead as well. 

Bob spent the next half hour scooting around the flat with Aziraphale checking things over and rabbit-proofing for Harry’s benefit, while the rabbit binkyed around happily and bounced off the walls, unused to the vast expanse and freedom to roam around. Ophelia hopped onto Bob to ride around while they checked everywhere. Harry regarded this with interest. 

He eyed up Lydia carefully, then launched himself up and landed on top of her housing and waited for her to move. Lydia froze, unsure what to do. No animal had tried to ride her before, and she wasn’t sure what to do. Bob noticed her indecision and circled her carefully to demonstrate, and she followed him carefully. Harry settled down for a guided tour of the flat. 

Crowley came and stood in the doorway, giving Aziraphale a lovesick look. Noticing this, Bob whirred up his motors in a replica of a wolf whistle. Crowley sighed and shot him a Look. “Enough of that, Hellspawn. Anyway, time for this lot to go back in their enclosures for the night, ride time over, c’mon.” He lifted Ophelia from Bob and placed her back in her aviary, then lifted Harry from Lydia and took him to his spacious hutch complex on the roof. He could still come downstairs if he wanted via the cat flap, but Crowley thought he should have some grass for a while. 

He noticed Aziraphale fiddling with a deck of cards on the coffee table. “Oh no, no no no noooooo, Angel, what are you doing?” Aziraphale looked up innocently. 

“Well having Harry and the doves here sort of reminded me that I hadn’t practised in a while, I rather fancied having a play.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Well count me out of it. If you want an audience, you can have Bob and Lydia, I’m going to watch tv.”

Bob and Lydia sat in front of the table observing Aziraphale carefully as he set up his tricks. He sellotaped a pencil to Bob and Lydia’s housings so they could point to cards to choose them. After a disastrously embarrassing few minutes, Bob beeped in derision with every failed attempt. Lydia was different however. Whenever Aziraphale asked if it was her card, she beeped in affirmation. 

Crowley turned from his position on the sofa. “Lydia, y’know lying isn’t very angelic is it?” Bob spun his motors and beeped laughter. Lydia rumbled indignantly. Aziraphale looked despondent, so she nudged his leg comfortingly with a quiet beep. He reached down to pat her absently. 

“Thank you my dear, I appreciate your enthusiasm.” He shuffled the cards and tried again. This time, against all odds, he actually got it right. When he presented Bob his card, it was indeed the same one the little vac had picked. 

Bob let out a whooping triumphal beep and scooted at high speed around Aziraphale emitting happy beeps in congratulation. Aziraphale smiled, relieved, and lifted his gaze to Crowley, who rolled his eyes and sighed, turning back to the television again. “Yes, yes. Well done Angel, now put those cards away and come here. I’m feeling insufficiently snuggled on this sofa.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself, packed his magic tricks away and joined his demon on the couch, cuddling up and kissing his cheek fondly. “You love it really.”

“Do not. I love you, not your magic tricks. It’s humiliating. Next time you try to do a live show I’m miracling up an aardvark in your top hat so at least you’ll have something impressive to end the set on.”

“Don’t you dare. I’m not having an aardvark in the house with us as well.”

“Good point.”

In the corner, Ophelia cooed happily and stretched her newly unbandaged wing, then settled down for a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the book, it's Crowley who ressurects the dove, not Aziraphale. It was changed at the last moment for filming due to blocking issues (character positioning on the screen.) 
> 
> I actually wrote this chapter MONTHS ago, pretty early on in the Roomba story, but didn't want to break it out too early as it introduced a few new characters that I didn't want to crowd the story with so early on. It's been sitting in my WIP folder, patiently biding its time for a while.


	47. Mistakes Were Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one this week. Bob gets into a spot of bother, but not as much as the person who caused it.

“Hey kids, I’m goin’ to walk down the deli and pick up some stuff to go with dinner, then to the bookshop and walk Aziraphale home, wanna come?”

Lydia blinked one LED on and regarded him stoically, then switched it off again as if going back to sleep. Bob, on the other hand, scooted forwards and nudged Crowley’s heel. 

“Ok, you stay and nap, Lyds, Bob and I will go out for a bit. Harry’s cat flap is closed, it’s too cold after dark for him to be out on the roof, so he’s in here with you. See you in a bit.”

It was still midwinter and it got dark early. Bob scooted obediently close to Crowley’s heels as he made a few purchases at the deli, then they swung by the bookshop. Aziraphale was busy at his desk with something and didn’t look up as the bell over the door jangled politely. 

“I’m afraid we are closing in a moment,” the angel called out. 

Bob beeped and scooted through to the office area, although he knew by now not to nudge Aziraphale’s feet when he was busy working. Aziraphale did look up from his work however when he realised that it was Bob, and Crowley who had come in. 

“Oh hello dear, I’m just finishing up binding one of those books with the bookbinding supplies you gave me for Christmas. Those endpapers are lovely. Let me clamp this one up then I shall be done. Time rather got away from me, I’m afraid.” 

Crowley stepped over and gave him a kiss on his fluffy white curls. “‘S ok, Angel. Thought I’d better come and get you to drag you home for dinner. Got some bits from the deli as well - planning a nice charcuterie board to go with that wine we got at Christmas too.”

Aziraphale finished his work and tidied up his workspace. Another prospective customer ambled in, but soon beat a hasty retreat when Bob charged out from behind the till, all LEDs on red, and harried the poor human by headbutting their toes until he’d nudged them backwards and out the door. 

“Good job, kiddo, we’ll make a bookshop vac of you yet,” Crowley cackled at his little minion’s actions. 

“Yes, superior customer ejection methods there, Bob, excellent work.” Aziraphale beamed at him and swept a few stray crumbs from the plate on his desk onto the floor for Bob to clean up. “Right, let’s be off, shall we?” He followed his husband and Bob out the door, locked up, then allowed Crowley to take his arm as they walked home along the darkened streets. 

They weren’t too far from Crowley’s flat when a nervous looking young man, seemingly built entirely of muscles, stepped out in front of them wielding a knife. Aziraphale stopped and blinked in confusion. Crowley’s eyes narrowed. 

“Hand over your phones, wallets and watches and no one gets hurt.” The human demanded, his eyes flicked down to Bob. “The roomba too.” The knife waving back and forth uneasily as his hand wavered, trying to point at both husbands in turn. “Don’t try anything funny,” he growled at Crowley as the demon sniffed, then shrugged and lounged back against the wall without a care in the world. 

“Are you really sure you wanna do that?” Crowley asked the attacker, idly, picking at his teeth. He raised one eyebrow at the human, while beside him, Aziraphale began to glow, and extra eyes began to manifest around his aura as his anger began to glow incandescent. 

There was a startled squeak, a whimpering sound, a blast of angelic wrath, a thud as the human tripped over Bob in his haste to get away from the holy creature before him, exposing every dark corner of his soul to be Seen, then the sound of running footsteps as the human decided he needed to put as much distance as possible between him and the angelic being. He didn’t stop running when he got home, he kept going past his house and across London until he got to St. Pancras station, where he boarded the next Eurostar through the Channel Tunnel to France, and embarked on a journey across Europe in an effort to get as far away as he could, turned over a new leaf and never attempted to break the law again.

* * *

“Bob! Oh Hellspawn what did that bastard do to you?” Crowley bent down noticing a crack in the little vac’s plastic housing. Aziraphale banished his ethereal eyes and knelt down next to his husband, who had picked up the little appliance and was inspecting him carefully. 

Bob beeped plaintively, thinking there might be some extra crumbs in it for him if he hammed it up a little. Aziraphale fished in his pocket and brought out a small plaster which he placed over the crack with a comforting pat. 

“There we go, dear, all better. Crowley will fix you up properly when we get home.”

Crowley hugged Bob close to him as they walked a few more minutes to the flat and upstairs. He placed Bob on the desk in the study and inspected the damage more carefully. 

“Let’s get your carbon fibre housing on again for now, I’ll plastic weld this one up for you. You’re gonna be naked for a minute while I swap your housing over. Lydia, avert your eyes, love.” 

Lydia had trundled over to investigate, but soon saw that it was only minor cosmetic damage, and rolled her googly eyes at Bob being dramatic to get extra affection, so she trundled out again to leave them to it. 

* * *

Later that evening, Bob came through to the lounge, Lydia following closely, and nudged at the DVD rack, then beeped at Aziraphale. 

“You want to watch your Robot Wars episode again?”

BEEP.

“Oh you told Lydia what your carbon fibre housing was from. Of course, it hadn’t occurred to me we haven’t shown her your episode yet. Well you can watch it after this programme, I’d like to see who gets voted out in the semi-final.”

Lydia watched in fascination as the robots annihilated each other on the screen. She seemed perplexed at such wanton violence. 

“So you don’t feel like having a go then, Lyds?” Crowley nudged her with his foot from where he lounged on the sofa, the rest of him wrapped around his husband. 

Lydia shook from side to side emphatically.

“Probably for the best, Bob would only get jealous you stole his title then feel all conflicted about wanting to win it back but also not wanting to take you on.”

Bob beeped indignantly, but knew Crowley was right. 

Ophelia strutted through to the lounge, and looked up at the husbands hopefully, trying to work out how best to get up to her favourite demon. She eyed up Bob, then fluttered her one free wing and hopped onto his back, then another lopsided fluttery hop launched her up onto Lydia’s slightly taller housing. From there she eyed Aziraphale’s knee, ducked her head, took aim, and jumped. 

Unfortunately she missed and flailed helpless on her side for a moment before righting herself and fluffing her feathers indignantly at the embarrassment. She was about to try again with a hop up onto Bob, when Crowley’s gentle hands scooped her up and lifted her onto his lap. She immediately settled down with a happy coo as he stroked her feathers.

There was a rattle of the catflap and Harry hopped down his customised ramp from the roof access, then launched far less elegantly onto Aziraphale’s lap, settling down to get his ears stroked as they watched tv together. 


	48. Annoyances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take one already grouchy demon, add in an irritating meme-obsessed vacuum cleaner, then throw in an angel who accidentally puts his foot in it, stir and wait.

Crowley’s phone buzzed. Crowley set his fork aside and inspected the screen with irritation. “Oh for crying out loud,” he muttered, and locked the screen again. He picked up his fork and took another bite, then his phone buzzed again. 

He glared at the screen, and dismissed the notification. 

“Who’s that?” Aziraphale queried, sipping at his wine. They’d come out for a romantic dinner for two at the Criterion, and Crowley seemed to be getting annoyed with whoever was texting him. 

“Bob.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s Bob, texting me.”

“When did he learn to do that?” 

Crowley looked nonplussed. “He’s always been able to do that, lots of Roombas can, that one is a standard feature. Normally they use it to tell you stuff like ‘roomba is stuck near a cliff’ when in fact the only thing they’re at risk of falling off is the bathroom bloody mat. He doesn’t do that, he just snaps himself to safety nowadays. What he HAS managed to do, however, is hack his way around me turning off the feature, ordering him NOT to text me because he was getting annoying and kept spamming me with youtube videos of cats, and tiktok videos of random humans dancing.”

“So what is he texting you now?”

“Philosoraptor memes.” Crowley paused at Aziraphale’s confused look, and realised he was going to have to explain the entire concept of memes, and philosoraptor, and pretty much the entire history of the internet, in minute detail, only for the angel to continue looking politely confused at him. He sighed. 

“Annoying metaphorical questions like ‘What do hipsters become when being a hipster becomes too mainstream?’ and ‘why doesn’t glue stick to the inside of the bottle?’ It’s exasperating. He’s a tiny circular troll. He’s doing it on purpose because he’s jealous we didn’t bring him tonight - that’ll be why he’s spamming me.”

“And you’ve asked him to stop, presumably?”

Crowley gave him a  _ look. _

“Right, right, of course you have, forget I asked. Can Lydia do it as well?”

“Technically yes, she’s got the ability to text her owner if she gets stolen, she didn’t when I stole her because her battery was flat... Oh  _ balls  _ I just realised those two dirty little appliances are probably sexting each other about surge protectors or something and my brain shouldn’t have gone there…” Crowley took a gulp of wine and pulled a face. His phone buzzed again. He sighed and showed Aziraphale the latest philosoraptor meme. 

_[(Can't see the image? Click here)](http://ukshires.net/AO3/philosoraptor-vac.jpg) _   


“Well yes, I expect it would,” Aziraphale replied, confused. 

“Angel, in modern slang, ‘sucks’ means something isn’t good.”

“Ah, oh I see. How droll.”

“Angel,  _ please  _ don’t say ‘droll’, at least  _ pretend  _ to be in the same century as everyone else.”

“You really are rather irritable today, aren’t you dear? Is it that time of the year again?”

Crowley glared at him and hissed under his breath. “I can’t  _ believe  _ you just said that to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, that was rather insensitive of me really. I do apologise, I shouldn’t presume.”

“Well as it happens, you’re right, but it was still a rude thing to say.”

“I’m sorry, darling, please forgive me. I’ll make it up to you, love.”

Crowley curled his lip and knocked back the last of his wine. 

* * *

The next day, Crowley was still irritable, he took Bob to task over the texting. 

“Look, I know you think it’s funny sending me tiktok videos of other roombas getting stuck on carpets and stuff, but it’s not fair to laugh at them just because they’re not as clever as you are. You used to get stuck too, don’t get too cocky about it.”

Bob grumbled his motors back in response. 

“And don’t take that tone with me, kiddo, or I’ll turn the wifi off in the flat.”

Ophelia strutted across and looked up at Crowley, wanting a shoulder ride, but the demon turned away and grabbed the Bentley keys instead, leaving the little dove disappointed. Aziraphale stepped over and picked her up for a cuddle instead, then perched her on his shoulder and tickled under her chin consolingly. 

Crowley gave his angel a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving on whatever errand he had in mind, and Aziraphale stroked Ophelia gently. 

“Don’t mind him, sweetheart, he’s just in a grump because he’s having a little personal issue right now, but hopefully we can cheer him up a little. I have a plan. Bob, Lydia, let’s get your trailers hooked up, we need to do a little shopping…”

* * *

At the pet shop, Azirpahale first picked out some new chew toys for Harry, some seed toys for the doves, and then browsed the reptile section for a while, before making a couple of purchases there as well. Lydia helpfully towed the purchases home in her little trailer, while Bob insisted on carrying the bird seed toys in his own, much smaller trailer, which usually carried a plant pot. 

Once home, Aziraphale unloaded his purchases and took some to the bathroom. He expended a few miracles to adjust things to his liking, including increasing the size of some of the reptile accoutrements significantly, then stepped back to take in his work with a happy little smile. He then went to the plant room, and carefully dragged through the largest pot in the room, which contained a small tree with nice rough bark, and placed it in the bathroom. 

“There, that should do it. Now come on, Ophelia, I need to see if we can unbandage that wing permanently yet…”

* * *

Crowley stomped through the door, still annoyed, scratching at his arm in irritation. Aziraphale looked up from the sofa with a warm smile. 

“Oh hello dear, how was your day?”

“Mmmph,” Crowley grumped, miserably. 

“That good, eh? Well I might have a solution, darling.” Aziraphale stood up and wrapped his husband in a hug first, then gave him a kiss. “Now close your eyes and follow me.”

Crowley pulled a face, but complied, letting Aziraphale take his hand and lead him towards the bathroom. 

“Open your eyes, love,” Aziraphale whispered in his ear, before giving Crowley a soft kiss on the cheek. Crowley did so, and took in the scene. 

Aziraphale had miracled the already large bathtub into an even larger jacuzzi, surrounded with scented candles, but also a selection of plants from the plant room for ambience, some rough rocks, and his largest indoor tree with nice rough bark on the trunk. 

“All for you. I’ve got a nice bottle of red open and breathing to pour when you’re finished, and I ordered takeaway for dinner so you don’t need to cook tonight.”

“Oh Angel…” Crowley sighed gratefully, then wrapped his husband up in a hug and a kiss. “You’re a soft bastard.”

“I’m  _ your  _ bastard,” Aziraphale grinned at him, booping him on the nose playfully. 

“Damn right you are,” Crowley growled, and kissed Aziraphale’s nose. He then slipped into his snake form, very much larger than the modest tiny snake shape he used when having rides on Bob, and slid into the water with a happy little hiss. His scales were dull and patchy, and the water helped loosen up the shedding skin nicely. 

He rolled around a little, then began to rub over the rocks and around the tree bark to help peel off the annoying shedding skin which had been making him so irritable recently. He quite lost track of time wiggling his way out of the itchy shreds of dead skin, and finally noticed Aziraphale had come back, and was holding two full wine glasses in the doorway. 

“Ready for a drink, darling?”

Crowley regarded his gleaming scales for a moment as he lazed in the bubbling jacuzzi. Everything was fresh and new. He nodded, and slid back into his humanoid form again, lounging back against the side of the jacuzzi, feeling completely relaxed. Aziraphale stepped over and placed the wine glass in his hand, then gave him a kiss on the head. 

“Dinner will be here in about an hour, and I promised Ophelia that you’d give her a shoulder ride later.”

Crowley nodded happily and wiggled his toes in the bubble stream. 

* * *

“Oh look at you!” Crowley cooed at the little dove. “Your bandage is off, how’s that wing of yours?” He stroked her soft feathers gently. Ophelia made contented little noises appreciatively. 

“The vet said that she can start exercising it now, not too much at first though, but she can start to flutter around the flat if she likes.”

“Nice going, you’re a pretty little zombie dove, oh yes you are…” the demon nuzzled his nose into her feathers to give her a kiss, then placed her on the back of the sofa, where she settled down happily.

“Zombie?  _ Really?” _

“Well she is. She was dead, now she’s not. What else should I call her?”

“Well ‘Ophelia’ is more than sufficient one should think. She might get a complex.”

“She’s  _ already  _ got a complex, she thinks she’s invincible. Who am I to shatter her illusions? She can do whatever she wants to.”

“Except try to assassinate the neighbour’s cat.”

“Ehh.” Crowley turned to Ophelia. “Was he a mean old kitty? Did you peck his furry behind? Did you? You’re my good little zombie dove.”

“Don’t encourage her, you menace.”

“Fine. She’s still a feathery little badass though.”


	49. Flight Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia's wing is feeling a bit better, Crowley overestimates his dove-sitting abilities. Bob's artistic endeavours courtesty of [Loveneedlesandhay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveneedlesandhay/pseuds/loveneedlesandhay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NEW! Bob now has his own TWITTER ACCOUNT at [www.twitter.com/bobroomba](http://www.twitter.com/bobroomba)**

Crowley scrolled through twitter. He paused. He scowled.  
  
"HELLSPAWN!"  
  
There was a frantic beep and the sound of Bob scooting under the bed. Crowley dropped his phone on the sofa and ran through to the bedoom, swearing. Aziraphale picked up his phone to see what was on the screen.

_(Can't see the image?[ **CLICK HERE**](http://ukshires.net/AO3/loveneedlesandhay-demonicactivity.jpg).)_

He sighed and picked up his book again, shaking his head.

* * *

The next day, Crowley watched as a fluffy white shape caught his eye on the floor. Harry was hopping around the flat after Ophelia. She strutted about, letting him get within a whisker’s breadth of catching up with her, then fluttered out of reach, and the chase began over again. Crowley watched with amusement, then called out to Ophelia

“Hey, zombie dove, get your feathery little butt up here.” He patted his lap.

Ophelia fluttered over, and he stroked her carefully, then gently flexed each of her wings out in turn, feeling along each wing bone, and checking the musculature along her keel was getting more even. He propped his feet on the coffee table and sat back idly preening her flight feathers with deft fingers while he watched tv. Ophelia cooed contentedly. After a while she flicked a wing to indicate she’d had enough and he let go. She settled down to doze in his lap. 

“Maybe we should do a little flight test, whaddya think? I’d come with you of course, make sure you don’t get into any scrapes. It’s been a few weeks, I reckon you’re about ready.” He looked down at his small feathery lap ornament, then checked his watch. It was still early in the day, Aziraphale would be at the bookshop for hours yet. He called over his shoulder.

“Hey, Lydia! Can you watch Bob and Harry for a bit? I’m gonna go out with Ophelia for an hour or two, that ok?”

Lydia trundled through with a sleepy beep, and looked around in confusion, wondering where Bob was. Crowley pointed upwards.

“He’s napping on the ceiling.” 

Lydia backed up a little, then settled down in front of the tv and changed the channel. Crowley nudged Ophelia. “C’mon, featherfloof. Stretch those wings, I’ll do the same then we can head up to the roof and have a fly, yeah?”

He lifted her from his lap and sat her on the sofa while he stretched his own enormous black wings out with a satisfied groan, stretching his entire body, then fluttering the tension out. He glanced over his plumage and ran his fingers down a few feathers to set things to rights. Ophelia looked up at him curiously. 

“What, Aziraphale never got his wings out around you or taken you for a flight?”

Ophelia spread her own wings out and fluffed up then settled down again. 

“I guess that’s a no, then.” Crowley commented, still preening his own wings fussily. “Well come on, featherfloof, get your little fluffy zombie butt up here, let’s go flying.” He tapped his shoulder and Ophelia stretched, then flew up onto his shoulder. 

She sat there happily as Crowley headed up onto the roof terrace, and gazed out across London. He snapped his fingers to render himself invisible to human eyes, then spread his own wings out to their widest and gave an experimental flap. Ophelia leapt off his shoulder in surprise and flapped a little half circle around him before landing on the parapet and giving him a dirty look. 

“What?” He asked indignantly. “A demon’s gotta stretch, y’know. Right, I’ll go first, you follow me, that work for you?”

The dove just looked at him, so Crowley sighed, stepped to the edge, felt the updraft off the side of the building lifting the leading edge of his feathers, and leaned into it slightly, feeling his body getting lighter on its toes. He grinned, then dropped off the side of the building, letting the thermal rising up from the streets below lift him upward, and circled the roof. Ophelia remained where she was and stared up at him in amazement. 

“Aww c’mon, chick, you can’t stay down there forever!” Crowley swung back around and landed lightly on his feet next to her, then picked her up carefully, held her to his chest, and launched upwards. Once clear of the building, he held her out, cupped in his hands, so she could feel the wind on her feathers. 

Ophelia looked confused, and spread her wings cautiously into the wind. She hesitated, and then allowed herself to lift off the demon’s hands, then began flapping in earnest. Crowley didn’t need to flap as often as a dove or pigeon, and soared far more easily with fewer wingbeats. He kept pace with her and smiled in encouragement. 

They circled out over the park before Crowley realised his mistake. There was an explosion of wings below them - he’d only miracled himself to be invisible to humans. The local duck population, however, could still very much see him. 

Ducks will automatically flinch at the shadow of a winged predatory shape in the air above them, their eyesight optimised to pick up threats from above. For one thing, Crowley’s shadow reminded them very much of a rather large bird of prey, and for another thing, they were apt to hold a grudge against a demon who occasionally found it amusing to feed them miracled bread that made them temporarily sink. 

Either way, Crowley had not endeared himself to the local duck population, regardless of the form they spied him in. There was a lot of splashing and quacking, and suddenly a large flock of vengeful ducks took to the air to mob him and try to drive him away, dive bombing him and pecking at his wings. 

Local pigeons and starlings soon joined in - the starlings being the worst, and once the swallows picked up on the mobbing, he didn’t stand a chance, as he was repeatedly pecked in the back of the head by a series of disgruntled small high velocity birds. 

He looked around for Ophelia but couldn’t see her. The ducks were harrying him downwards, and then a bloody swan joined in. One dive bombed him at high speed and Crowley’s wing faltered, pitching him into a spiral that landed him with a very muddy splash in a pond, from which he emerged, enraged and dripping duckweed. 

He had to find Ophelia, so he shook his wings off and launched upward, barrelling up through the centre of the flock of angry wildfowl, and gaining as much height as he could to try to spy the tiny white dove among the chaos. 

He flicked pondweed from his hair and scanned the city below anxiously, hoping the mob hadn’t caught the little dove up in their midst or scared her. Fortunately, his sharp serpentine vision picked up pale white fluttery movement slightly Eastwards and honed in on it. It could be a pale pigeon, but it might be Ophelia. He tucked his wings tight to his body and hurtled downwards after her. 

Unfortunately Ophelia also had a built-in instinct to flee any large predatory stooping shape closing in on her from above, and took evasive action, tumbling sideways and heading for cover. Crowley called out after her in desperation, cursing himself for being such an idiot. 

“HEY! Ophelia, it’s ME, calm down, you’re ok, just let me catch up!”

The little dove redoubled her efforts to get away and fled Eastwards. Crowley groaned and pushed himself faster, giving chase. As he flew over the city, flocks of startled pigeons took flight below him, he ignored them and carried on. 

They headed past the East End, and he could see poor little Ophelia struggling - she wasn’t fit and was clearly getting tired. She was flapping slower, trying to glide longer, and losing height. He glided lower himself, and tried to get himself lower than her so he’d be less intimidating. His nose wrinkled as they approached a sewage treatment works, then he saw Ophelia falter. 

“Oh no, no nononononono… don’t fall down there, _please…”_

Ophelia was exhausted, and came into land, fluttering awkwardly down onto a pipe sticking out of the centre of a huge settling tank. Crowley swooped down low, miscalculated, lost his lift, and pinwheeled into the tank, with a slow, stinky glooping noise. 

One very disgusted demon clawed his way up from the depths and to the surface, and glared at the little dove sitting on the pipe over his head. He opened his mouth to say something, looked around them, then changed his mind, and swam determinedly toward the pipe. 

* * *

Aziraphale thought it odd that Crowley wasn’t home when he got back, but settled down with a cup of tea and a book to read after Lydia reassured him that Crowley was out with Ophelia and said he’d be back home soon.

Harry came downstairs through his cat flap, hopped onto the sofa and splooted out next to the angel to chill out.

The front door opened and Crowley squelched in, preceded by a foul stench. Ophelia was sitting on his head.

Pond weed straggled from his hair and shoulders. Stinking semi-treated sewage caked his clothes and random feathers were stuck all over. Aziraphale stared at his husband open-mouthed.

“A series of events happened and now I need to take a shower” 

With that, he shook his head, causing the dove to flutter down and land on the back of the sofa, and stomped off to the bathroom. 

Harry wrinkled his nose and launched off the sofa in disgust, hopping back off up the ramp to the roof for a while. Aziraphale inspected Ophelia, who had unfortunately also got a bit mucky while Crowley carried her home.

“And I think a little bath might be in order for you too, my girl.” Aziraphale told her. Ophelia blinked and took off.

“Oh no you don’t, you feathery little menace…” Aziraphale gave chase.

* * *

… That night, after listening to Ophelia’s account of events, Bob sneaked onto the computer and poked at it’s bluetooth until it paid attention to him. He experimented for a while, and then headbutted the printer a few times until it cooperated, and threatened it with a power surge if it didn’t behave, and then left something in the print tray for his dad to find later...

_(Can't see the image? **[CLICK HERE](http://ukshires.net/AO3/loveneedlesandhay-flighttest.jpg).)**_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bob and Plant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645938) by [Elwyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst/pseuds/Elwyst)
  * [Bob and Crowley](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719306) by [Elwyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst/pseuds/Elwyst)
  * [Bob and dog](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168253) by [Elwyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst/pseuds/Elwyst)
  * [Who Steals a Roomba?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517378) by [Scifigal90](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scifigal90/pseuds/Scifigal90)
  * ["How to effectively co-parent your sentient appliances" by Anthony J Crowley & A.Z. Fell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118743) by [GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster)
  * [Bob takes the plants to Pride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039161) by [Elwyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst/pseuds/Elwyst)
  * ["Bob the Doomba"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516542) by [WriteItOtt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteItOtt/pseuds/WriteItOtt)
  * [Bob and Lydia - Wedding Prep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116821) by [Elwyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst/pseuds/Elwyst)
  * [The Bentley - Wedding Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116881) by [Elwyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst/pseuds/Elwyst)
  * [Ineffable Wedding Rings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117113) by [Elwyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst/pseuds/Elwyst)
  * [Roomba Cat - Narnia Edition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948389) by [Elwyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyst/pseuds/Elwyst)
  * [Nativity of Doom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237770) by [loveneedlesandhay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveneedlesandhay/pseuds/loveneedlesandhay)




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